Living in Secret
by CGPH
Summary: Forced to take the Dark Mark and pledge allegiance to the Death Eaters, Daphne Greengrass must work even harder to hide her infatuation with The Boy Who Lived from the rest of the world, all while the ever-growing war threatens to tear them apart. Sequel to Living Dangerously.
1. Heavy Rain

**Important Disclaimer: **This story is a sequel, as such if you have not read Living Dangerously prior then this may prove hard to follow it. We pick up approximately the same place the Half Blood Prince film does, albeit with some slight changes in continuity, which you will see explained in the context of the story. If an event happened in the film which is not covered in this continuity but still referenced, presume it played out identically. This is the story of Daphne Greengrass and of her romance with The Boy Who Lived, not a retcon to the entire universe.

And now, presenting…

* * *

**~ Living In Secret ~**

* * *

The rain was loud on the roof. She was thankful, as its dull, rhythmic beats were about the only thing keeping her grounded right now.

She tried to steady her breathing.

The harsh weather caused her to pad up in layers, which was now backfiring on her. A thick layer of sweat clung to her back and her palms were slippery - though that was mostly down to the nerves rather than temperature. The second she started thinking about trying to tidy herself up it just caused an all new level of nausea to set in.

The last thing she needed was to be stressing about something so self-conscious. Over half an hour had passed since she started waiting; that would usually be unacceptable, but on the contrary, she found herself wanting the time to be stretched out even further.

She wet her dry lips and took another quick glance of the room.

It was dark and cramped. The whole place reeked of rot and the only light came from a flickering candle in the corner. She'd struggle to find somewhere she knew that was more decrepit and dingy; needless to say it was certainly not the place she imagined it to be. She had rehearsed this exact moment over and over again in her head, and each time - though with vastly different outcomes - she'd always imagined a respectable location. An ancient castle, a stormy beach side, or a burning field, maybe. Certainly not a musty corner shop in a run-down section of Knockturn Alley.

Draco was stood nearby. His figure was still as a statue. He was terrified, possibly even more than she was. Granted, her father wasn't much of an emotional support, but at least he was _here_. Last she had heard of the Malfoys, Lucius was in Azkaban for his capture at the Department of Mysteries and Narcissa was on the run.

A lot of scandalous arrests had come from the battle, which then left a power vacuum behind in its wake. There was a _reason_ her father was here and Draco's was not, and she had no doubt he blamed her for it.

Despite their shared discomfort, it was obvious neither of them would be seeking comfort in the other anytime soon. The silence in the room was actually deafening.

Then there was creaking noise and a section of wall opened out into a door.

They both flinched at the movement. Her father stepped out. Daphne's gaze shot straight past him and to a hulking figure following closely behind. Under the figures robes she saw the eyes of a wolf staring back at her.

"Right, sweetheart," her father spoke in a hushed tone, "Good luck... try not to disappoint."

"Will you hit me again if I do?"

She bit down on her tongue. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. The nerves had taken a hold of her and she'd responded on automatic instinct. Not just that, but the nervous swallowing caused her voice to crack like a little boys.

Her father eyed her intensely.

"You go in there being a bitch. _See_ what happens," he hissed.

She chewed the inside of her mouth. Her body refused to budge an inch. Her father noticed her hesitation and his face returned to a placid expression.

"Just... just keep your head down," he said softer. "Only speak when spoken to. Be respectful. Get it over with. You can _do_ this."

Shaking, she took a step forward. Her knees were weak below and every step took a tremendous amount of effort, she eventually made her way over the door her father had entered through.

"You, boy. You're coming too."

Draco nodded at the command and joined them in the back. He was trembling with each step; Daphne almost felt bad for him. She crossed into a dark passage where the light from the room was unable to reach. She travelled through pitch black for a few moments, until her eyes adjusted to the dark and she was able to make out the silhouette of her father before her.

With nothing in front of her eyes keeping her distracted, the anxiety she'd been fighting off back began to catch up. The wand in her sleeve suddenly itched to be grabbed - though she knew doing so would be more trouble than it was worth. She could see impossible shapes moving and darting around the darkness. Her heartbeat was soon loud enough to drown out the rain above and the deeper into the darkness she ventured, the air around her grew colder.

They reached the end of the corridor and stepped into a room, where Daphne suddenly found her eyes glued to the floor.

There was a presence in the room with them.

It was cold and not entirely human, bringing images of the Dementors of third year to mind… but yet, this felt worse in so many ways. Her feet were suddenly paralyzed. Her body refused to move an inch and it took a hand on her back from a masked figure to make her move forward again. Shakily, she dropped gently to her knees, her head down in a bow.

"My lord."

She dared not look around the room; the noises next to her told her Draco repeated her movement.

"Rise, my children..." came an smooth and icy voice.

It took a second for the voice to register in her brain, but when it did, she didn't linger. She quickly stood and brought her hands together in front of her, all the while, her head was still firmly pointing at the ground.

There was an eerie snicker from ahead.

"Have I done something to offend you, girl? Will I be talking to the top of your head all evening?"

With a clenched jaw, she slowly raised her face into view.

A shiver went down Daphne's spine at what she saw.

The creature staring back was not human. It sat like a man, wore robes like a man, but it was no man. It's face was that of a skulls, just as pale, dead skin with no hair or lips to be seen. Sunken into the face were two brilliant blue eyes, which caught her off guard, as the rumours lead her to believe they were red. The creature titled his head to the side, only now did she clock on he was staring back at her. She did not linger on his eyes a moment longer.

"That's better... Pretty young thing, aren't you? Yes…" the Dark Lord gave a toothed smile, "...if you're smart about it, you'll excel nicely. Nice faces have a habit of getting what they want."

She tried to give a polite nod, but only managed to jut her head forward in a bow.

The daunting indication behind his words only occurred to her a second afterwards, by that time The Dark Lords attention had moved on and he did not catch her eyes bulge out of her face.

"Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves, before we get started?"

Draco instantly moved from his position and threw himself onto one knee.

"It's an honour to be in your presence, your grace!"

Daphne's heart did a somersault and she assumed instantly in that moment that Draco was dead. The Dark Lord simply gave a bemused expression - or attempted something that resembled one.

"Just as snivelling as your father, I see!" the Dark Lord said in an energetic, almost upbeat tone, which sounded unnatural leaving his mouth. "I never did like Lucius, you know. Always so eager to please... I had half a mind to thank Fudge myself when he threw him away to rot."

Draco's face dropped. He hesitated on the spot for a second, Daphne silently begged him to not push. She wouldn't try to save him, but had no desire to see him die before her eyes. He'd be a flayed corpse on the floor in front of her, and she knew all too well his habit of running his mouth. Eventually he did move back to his position, Daphne let out a breath she didn't know she'd been building.

It was then she noticed the dead man's eyes had fallen to her now instead.

"And you, girl?"

She shook her head instantly. She had nothing to say. Even if she had, her mouth was that dry she doubted she could force the words through her throat.

But that wasn't enough for the Dark Lord. His eye lids narrowed and he leaned closer to her, almost as if he was examining her through a magnifying glass. She clenched her jaw, repressing the urge to pull away.

"You father tells me some very interesting things about you, girl... Would you, in your own words... give us that story?"

She was prepared for this moment, she had done rehearsals every night for almost a week. She knew exactly what she needed to say. This wasn't going to be like the last time. She wasn't that person anymore. She refused to freeze.

Daphne suddenly became very aware of the amount of eyes in the room. Her father and the wolf man watched from behind, that she knew, but there were also two figures by the Dark Lord's side. Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov; she recognised them from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. Bellatrix, in particular, had been glaring daggers at her since she entered.

With all eyes on her, she opened her mouth.

"It was _I_ that lured Harry Potter to the Department of Mysteries. First I spent a year growing close to him and then when the time came..." she paused to wet her lips, "... he was under my little finger. When he wanted to wait for the Order of the Phoenix for backup, it was _I_ who pushed for us to not delay. Though Mister Malfoy later failed the plan… he most likely wouldn't have gotten there at all, if it weren't for my help. He _trusted_ me."

It had not come out as a word-for-word retelling of her fathers story, but a close approximation of the deception they had compromised on. Though, compromise was hardly the word for it.

His will had beaten hers. Though it never got quite as far as torture - unless you count the emotional kind - the weeks after the battle had been rough on her. Her father was a man with a silver tongue and a knack for getting what he wanted and a temper for when he didn't. She'd seen the darker side of that man now. She agreed to his terms without negotiation. She had done and said everything that was required of her, just like a perfect daughter would do. Whether she meant the words she said or they were just empty promises… even she couldn't tell anymore.

Her life had gotten considerably more dangerous these past few months, keeping her mouth shut had wound up the best option for survival. Hopefully her wake-up call hadn't come too late.

A silence hung heavy in the room after she stopped talking.

She refused to meet the Dark Lord's gaze, but from the corner of her eye she could see his stare was not broken.

"Is this the truth?"

She gone over it in her head that many times, it likely could have been. She could picture it all in excruciating detail, from Harry's face of betrayal, to the deliberate thoughts of manipulation she'd had about deceiving him. She'd relived it so many times that it almost _felt_ real.

She could sense the tugging in her head that she'd been warned about. Like a fist slowly tightening around her brain stem. Her mind was being probed. She never prayed to the Great Old Ones much, but she was making up for it immediately. She prayed to them her deception came across as genuine. She prayed the lies that she told herself were convincing.

"Yes… my lord."

The Dark Lord considered her a moment longer, then reclined back into his seat. His gaze was still upon her, she was not out of danger, but felt in a better place than moments ago.

"If that is the case, then my question is - as I'm sure my friends would also like to know - what inspired you to act without orders? You were not following any commands put forth by me… You acted entirely independently, withheld information from your father, all while doing a great service. I'm sure help from others could have been a great asset to you in your endeavour. So why act alone, I wonder?"

Daphne swallowed.

She'd had her speech planned word for word, now she was being forced to think on the spot. Follow up questions were to be expected, she knew, but it didn't do anything to stop the surge of panic now spreading around her system. She strained her throat to clear her breath. Any hesitation or tripping over her words would spoil the facade.

"I want to be the best. In order for me to properly seduce Harry, I needed total control of the situation. Involving anyone else would have been an unnecessary liability - "

The Dark Lord's face split open in a wide smile.

"Harry! My, my, first name basis with the boy!" he announced joyfully. "It must have been something quite special the two of you had!"

A cackle of laughter leaked over from Bellatrix's side. Daphne fought the urge to shrink away. There was sincerity in the Dark Lord's voice, like he genuinely found it funny, but Daphne couldn't help the feeling she was being laughed at, rather than with. Draco, who she had momentarily completely forgotten was by her side, shifted around nervously.

"Purely professional, my lord."

All of a sudden, the Dark Lord lurched forward in his chair.

"Don't lie to me, little girl."

His face had come to rest inches in front of her own. Daphne was absolutely still. Her eyes returned to their spot on the floor, her jaw clenched so hard it felt like her teeth were going to shatter. A ringing silence hung over the room, the only sound was Draco's panicked breath from beside her, which made her realize that she was holding her own.

She let out a slow exhale, bobbing her head a few times in understanding.

The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair again, this time turning to address the room around them.

"The rest of you may leave us. I wish to speak to Miss Greengrass privately... " he commanded, and then added, "... no harm shall come to the girl in your absence, Benedict, I assure you of that."

But the Dark Lord's words came as no reassurance to her.

Footsteps began around her, but Daphne lacked the drive to watch her only defence leave her. Her father's steps were recognisable among them, he always wore shoes with slight heels in to make himself appear taller than he was. Suddenly the weeks of manipulation, bullying and abuse meant nothing anymore. She had never been more vulnerable than right now, in this moment, and as his footsteps disappeared into the corridor from which they came, Daphne wanted nothing more than for her daddy to come back.

After the footsteps vanished entirely, and only when the rain above was loud in her ears, did the Dark Lord step up from his seat. Daphne watched him began to pace slowly around her, as if carefully considering himself at this moment.

Then there was a new noise. The creaking of floor boards, moving closer to her. It sounded like another person was in the room with them, but as Daphne turned her head to look, she suddenly found herself again paralysed with fright. A snake, impossibly gigantic in size, was moving towards her. It slithered across the length of the room in mere seconds, and then, incredibly, simply carried on past her. It took the better part of a full minute for its entire body to disappear through a crack in the wall, the whole time with Daphne's eye transfixed on it.

"Does Nagini frighten you, my child?"

There was sweat on her forehead now. Her wand was abandoned inside her sleeve. She could not defend herself even if she wanted to. She could not think what else to do other than nod her head again.

"A Slytherin who's scared of snakes… Ironic, wouldn't you say?" the Dark Lord gave a bemused chuckle.

The Dark Lord's tone then changed. He had completed a pace around the room and brought himself to a stop in front of her face. He moved in, his brilliant blue eyes singling in on her intently.

"Do you believe that, after your... so-called _betrayal_ at the Battle of the Department of Mysterious… the boy still trusts you?"

Daphne shook her head, but the look on the Dark Lord's face told her that answer was not satisfactory.

"Impossible, my lord. He more than likely hates me…"

The skin where the Dark Lord's eyebrows once were furrowed and he turned away from her, taking his place back on his seat.

"Regardless, this is the task I am giving you."

The words took a second to process for Daphne. Her face flashed confused, before she made amends and dropped back into her monotone stare.

"My lord?"

"Do whatever it takes..." he continued, "... lie to him... love him... _seduce_ him... let him put a child in you, for all I care! I don't need the intimate details... "

He gave a wave of dismissal and thankfully, didn't catch her blushing cheeks.

"... But make sure his trust is in you. He is never to suspect your true allegiance. _That_ is the task I am giving you. Any deviations from it and I'll assume your loyalties do not lay where you claim."

Daphne's lips dried again, but she suddenly lacked the drive needed to wet them. When she spoke, it came out weak.

"And… then?"

She feared that she already knew the answer.

"Then nothing. Work your way closer to him, then when the time is right, you will receive further instructions. You are not to make any moves to harm Harry Potter, and should anyone else try to do the same, you are to protect him. Have I made myself clear?"

Solace swept over her.

For a second, she thought he was asking her to do the unforgivable to the only man she'd ever felt anything for. His request instead was mercy, though she doubted he intended it that way. Taking a deep breath, Daphne nodded with more confidence than before.

"Yes, my Lord. Perfectly."

"Good..." he nodded, then gestured out behind her. "Now be a dear and send young Draco in for me, would you?"

Shakily, she did the best she could to obey. She offered him a bow - as best she could - and left the room in a hurry.

Just like that it was over. And she was still alive.

As she plunged into the blackness, her feet loud on the creaking floorboards, she half expected the giant snake of his to come pelting down the corridor after her. But it never came. She was still alive. She had faced the Dark Lord, lied to his face and walked away unscathed. She was still alive. Or he had allowed her to live, was probably a more accurate description.

She wasn't sure if he truly bought the story she had given him, but he had chosen to give her her life. Which, all things considered, was more than what most people got away with.

She was still trembling when she emerged back out into the main room. Bellatrix, Antonin and the wolf-man lurked in a corner nearby, noticeably distant from her father and Draco. All eyes descended on her as she made her presence known, but only her father moved to meet her.

"How did it go? What did he say?"

Daphne didn't break from her stride. She moved straight to Draco, who was staring back at her with fearful eyes.

"He wants you."

His face twisted into something ugly, then after a moment of hesitation, he moved quickly to the passage she had exited.

"Well? Does he like you? Is he letting you in?" her father' voice cracked somewhere in between giddy and frightened.

His eyes watched her in eager anticipation. From the corner of the eye she spotted the Death Eaters doing the same.

The words struggled to leave her throat. She was having difficult processing all the emotions of what had just happened, the idea of trying to formulate them into words seemed an impossible task right now. She opened her mouth, carefully considered herself, closed it again, only to open it again a moment later. She suddenly realised how weak her knees were beneath her.

When she was finally able to form a sentence, all she was able to produce was a feeble, "... I would like a glass of water, please."

It took a second for the words to register with her father, but he then dove away from her in equal enthusiasm and returned seconds later with a goblet in his hand. She didn't know where he had produced it from, but took it all the same. As she lifted it to her lips, she was momentarily taken back by how wet the drink was. Or rather, how dry her mouth was, she should say.

She gulped down half the cup in a few swigs, then handed the silver back to her father.

"Well? Daphne?" he asked impatiently.

His pestering seemed to drain away as her attention shifted to something else. There was a skylight in this room that she hadn't noticed before. Which was silly, considering how long she'd spent examining the room while waiting here earlier.

She could see the rain hitting the glass, bouncing off and then dribbling the rest of the way down.

Never before this day did she consider how soothing the rain sounded. If it wasn't for it's constantly lingering in the background, she doubted this night would have gone the same way. It was like a layer of comfort that stuck with her, even when her father had not. It kept her grounded, like an anchor, kept her confident. It even made her feel like things were going to end up okay, and that was a feeling that she didn't experience much of these days.

Her father eventually stopped mithering her, but lingered close nonetheless. Just when she felt like she could have gone on listening to the rain for eternity, a shrill creak brought her back to the room.

Draco was back, looking shaken, and coming towards her.

"He wants us all."

And just like that, she was back into the fold. She filed back into the same position as before and the group moved into the hall. The darkness swallowed them up instantly, but this time she wasn't scared. This was just a moment in time, and soon it would be over.

And until then, she had the rain to keep her company.

The group emptied into the room, retaking their positions from earlier. The Dark Lord looked more refined than earlier, now sitting upright on his seat. Whatever was said between he and Draco obviously soured him from when she last saw him. Bellatrix and Antonin moved to his side, this time the wolf-man took a place beside them. Daphne's father lingered on the fringe of her vision, seemingly calmer than before.

The Dark Lord gestured for attention in the already silent room.

"I have spoken with you each privately, in those conversations I have given you both a task to do for me this coming year at Hogwarts. You are forbidden from discussing these assignments among yourselves. Only the two of you, myself and your Professor Snape know the details of your tasks, he will be assistance to you in whenever you need. Do not trust anyone else, especially each other. Any questions?"

She and Draco shook their heads.

"Good. Now, it is time to join your brothers and sisters. Present to me… your left arms."

The rain was alive in Daphne's ears. Far louder than it was earlier, or maybe she was just listening harder for it. No longer shaking, she pulled back her heavy sleeve and presented her bare arm to the Dark Lord. Just a moment in time, she reminded herself. She was in the worst of it and after that, she would be okay. It would be over soon. She just had to get through this night.

Pieces could be picked up later, but salvation was not an option for dead girls.

_"Mosmordre Aeternum."_

The rain was then drowned out under the sound of Daphne's stomach-churning scream.


	2. Return of the Ice Queen

It was an early September morning, the sun was high in the sky, and spirits were with it.

Somewhere in the British countryside, steel tracks wove through the mountains like a metal snake, twisting and turning across the landscape. The Hogwarts express sped along the trail impossibly fast, fat smoke billowing from its roof and inside, eager students clogged it's halls and carriages, energy high in the air. One particular carriage that lacked this enthusiasm, however.

Harry Potter was not okay.

Summer had been fine, life with the Dursleys; the weeks spent with them were always the longest of his life. Then, a spur-of-the-moment trip with Albus Dumbledore brought him back to the magical reality of the wizarding world. He'd spent a lot of time over the holidays chasing the rabbit, but now he was so close to catching it, he could feel it speeding up.

"So you saw Daphne and Malfoy hangin' round in Diagon Alley, what of it?"

"It wasn't just Diagon Alley, it was _Knockturn_ Alley."

"Knockturn Alley, then! What's your point?"

Hermione gave a groan of annoyance beside them.

"Harry is worried because Daphne's gone the entire holidays without returning his letters and now the first he sees of her, she's shopping with Malfoy in a dodgy part of town... Of course, he _knows_ that being in the same house, they're probably just shopping together out of convenience and she more than likely has very good reasons for not returning his letters..." she paused after an incredibly long breath. "And that's why he's waited until it's just us three to bring it up, because he didn't want to sound jealous in front of the others."

Ron gave an ugly grimace.

"Hate it when she does that."

It didn't make sense that Daphne wasn't talking to him. They were finally past things like this - or at least he thought they were.

She'd thrown him through so many hoops last term, being on his side, turning against him (the fact he had context to that _now_ still did not help how he felt in the moment), then suddenly, back on his side again. They had left things off on a good note, but since then there had been nothing, no letters, responses, word of mouth, anything. He'd even gone as far as accusing Dobby of stealing his letters again just like a few summers previous, but everything received from Ron, Hermione and Sirius came through without a problem. That somehow made it seem worse, because it meant his worst assumption was true.

"Harry, I seem to remember our second year, we both went the entire summer without hearing back off you," said Hermione.

Harry scrunched up his nose.

"Dobby was doing that," he waved her off, "that was different."

"She has a house elf as well?" Hermione emphasised. "We don't know what's going on with her home life, but considering she attacked her own father for you, I don't think it's too far a stretch of the imagination to say that letters arriving at her house with your name on them probably wouldn't be very welcome."

He'd had the entire summer to brew and overthink what it meant, wondering what revelation she'd gone through this time to make her stop contact so suddenly. Eventually he'd calmed himself with a less polished version of the same argument Hermione just gave him, but it still didn't help the nagging feeling that he had done something wrong.

And it wasn't jealousy, no matter what anyone said. It definitely made him anxious, seeing Daphne and Malfoy together, but that was perfectly normal. Malfoy had shared a common room with her all of last year and he hadn't been jealous then. Harry knew very well what she thought of him and the other boys of her house, there was no danger or anything to be jealous of in that department, and he was sure of it. But if not that, what was it that caused him to be so unsettled by what he saw?

Before Harry had chance to respond, Ron chimed in from the side.

"Mate, last time she saw Malfoy she practically left him from the ceilin'. You didn't see it but… trust, she hates him just as much as we do. There's nowt to be jealous of."

"I'm not jealous! It's not about that."

"Then what's got you so rattled up?"

His mouth hung open as a spewing of jumbled words and noises came out. He was trying to communicate an unnatural, guttural instinct of which he had no point of reference or prior experience with even though, frankly, he would struggle to describe what he had for breakfast this morning.

"They were outside Borgin and Burkes!" he eventually settled on, stammering. "That's a dark arts shop, I know it is, I've been there!"

Hermione just frowned back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You've been there?"

"Long stor-" he half-shouted in annoyance before catching himself, "- Look, Lucius is in Azkaban, which means Draco's going to be out for revenge. That's what I'm worried about!"

"Pretty sure she can handle herself if he's gonna try and hurt he-"

"No, I didn't mean... I jus- I don't know! The whole thing just gives me a bad feeling."

Harry's attempts were unsuccessful and Hermione just stared back at him with the same troubled expression she'd worn their entire journey. It was the same pitiful look he'd grow accustomed to during his and Daphne's scandal, earning him a toxic nostalgia.

"You need to learn to trust your girlfriend…"

Harry threw his arms into the air.

"She might not even _be_ my girlfriend anymore!"

His proclamation shut the conversation down immediately. Hermione fell mute, defeated.

The rocketing of the carriage was suddenly the only noise audible to the group. That, and Harry's heavy breathing. Ron and Hermione finally seemed to catch on how upset they'd been making him and looked awkward in their seats.

"Mate…" Ron tried.

"You know, I seem to remember last year this conversation was the other way round!" Harry spat. "You two telling _me_ she was trouble! You've certainly changed your tune now."

Hermione's demeanour changed, she now looked to be choosing her words carefully.

"She saved our lives, Harry... " she said slowly. "Not to mention helped us escaped Umbridge… Personal feelings aside, it's obvious she's made her choice in where her loyalties lay. I don't even like the girl and even I can see you're assuming the worst of her. The only first-hand evidence we actually have she's a bad person was the fact she went along with it when _you_ cheated on Cho."

It took a second for the words from her mouth to reach her ears, then Hermione's eyes bulged out in horror. She turned to him. He rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored her. Then, somehow even more cautious than before, she continued.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry... but, my point remains. That situation was mostly on you… and now, well, I think you're being jealous, and it's making you jump to conclusions. There's nothing wrong or unmasculine about being jealous seeing your girlfriend with a person you hate. I'd feel the same if I saw…"

She turned to Ron , but this time appeared to stop herself from talking. She bit her lip, he noticed, but Ron remained oblivious.

"... Someone that _I_ liked with Pansy."

After her clarification, the conversation faded away again. Either Ron and Hermione felt uncomfortable taking it forward, or neither of them could be bothered arguing over it.

Between the group their biggest complaint over last year was how poorly they'd done stuck together, an unspoken unanimous agreement was that this year was going to be different. It - put lightly - was not off to a great start.

As the minutes passed the tension gradually faded away. It was difficult to stay annoyed at each other in the circumstances. Relationship drama aside, all of them had equally been looking forward to getting back to a Hogwarts free of Ministry interference.

"So, no more DA then this year I take it?" Ron broke the silence.

"Well, it'll depend if the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is any good," said Hermione.

"It's Snape," he said, his attention still mostly focused out the window.

He was met with two sets of furrowed eyebrows.

"You what!?" Ron asked.

"Dumbledore's got a old mate of his teaching Potions now, Horace Slughorn," Harry expanded. "He took me recruiting him, the night I turned up at yours. Snape's been bumped up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts post now."

Ron looked like he'd just been given a scolding. He scrunched up his nose and somehow sank even lower into his seat.

"Oh, bloody wonderful..."

"Horace Slughorn was the Potions Master before Snape," Hermione added. "Why would Dumbledore want an old face like that to come back?"

Her question apparently wasn't to anyone in particular, and it went unanswered.

The quiet didn't have long to settle, however, before a knocking on the glass door grabbed the groups attention.

There was a girl in a hat, already in uniform, waving at Harry.

"Friend of yours?" Ron asked.

He pulled his lips together and stifled a polite smile, but wasn't willing to muster any further interaction. The girl wasn't phased by his low effort, then took off back down the train in the way she'd been heading.

"Tracey Davis," he answered. "One of Daphne's friends."

"Lemme guess, she's a Death Eater too?" Ron asked.

"I never said Draco was a Death Eater!"

Ron winced in an unconvincing manner.

"Kinda implied it, mate."

"Stop it, both of you!" Hermione interjected before Harry had chance to respond. "Harry, if you're really that bothered about it, you know you can always just go _ask_ Daphne what she was doing with him, don't you?"

Harry let go a sarcastic laugh.

"Oh yeah, 'cause that won't sound stalkery!"

"Plus walking into a carriage full of Slytherins? Are you mental?" Ron asked from the side.

Hermione glared daggers at him upon his sudden change of attitude, but said nothing. Instead she shook her head at Harry, exasperated.

"Well, wait until we get into the castle, then! Point being, you should just ask her. Relationships are nothing without trust. Jealousy is a natural part of liking someone and it should be talked about, not repressed."

That caught Ron's attention, who frowned.

"Since when did you learn so much about being in a relationship?" he asked her.

Harry pushed his friends to the back of his mind.

It wasn't Daphne that was winding him up, it was what business Malfoy had with her. And no, he didn't mean that in a jealous way.

He couldn't say for a fact, but he didn't imagine Daphne being the most popular person in Slytherin right now. She apparently obliterated Malfoy, Pansy and the others in a fight, then was directly responsible for Lucius getting sent to Azkaban. She had outright betrayed her father, her house and the whole blood purity Malfoy and the others seemed to hold so dear to them. They all had every reason to hate her. It wasn't like Malfoy to be forgiving for anyone, so why was he not only on speaking terms with her, but also willing to be seen in public with her?

Maybe Harry was just being overbearing, but it wasn't one issue that was bothering him about the situation, it was multiple small things that just didn't add up.

And all of them lead back to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione's comment lingered in Harry's mind. They were all on the same train. No doubt a few carriages down, Malfoy was sat with his housemates. After they got to the castle he would disappear into the dungeons for the rest of the year; meaning this was probably the most exposed he'd be for a long time.

Completely unaware of Ron and Hermione's ongoing conversation opposite him, Harry rose to his feet.

"I need some air."

* * *

Tracey Davis pushed her way through the crowded corridors of the Hogwarts Express. She swore she had never seen it this full before, but mind you, she didn't often go exploring after it had already set off. Shuffling through a group of newbie first years, she clawed her way clear of the crowd and stopped in front of a side door. She was out of breath by the time she reached it, as this was actually the third door she'd tried since getting out of her seat.

She knocked impatiently on it.

"Occupied!"

"It's Tracey."

Nothing happened for a few moments. She strained her ears to listen out for movement, but if there was any, it was being drowned out by the train's racketing. A few seconds later, a hatch unclipped and the door opened ajar a few inches.

A green eye met her through the gap.

"There you are, you daft git!" she beamed. "How long have you been in here?"

"An hour. I've been reading," the eye replied.

Tracey tried to keep her demeanour friendly, but couldn't help her smile draining from her face. The eye noticed her displeasure and sank back a few inches.

"You goin' to spend the entire year hidin' from everyone?"

There was a groan from the other side and suddenly the door was sealed between them. The bang of which attracted eyes of a few lingering students, which Tracey met with a glare of her own. With others now watching her, she kept her voice a harsh whisper as she moved in closer.

"Come on, you've already proven you can whoop their arses in a fight! You don't need to be scared of them!" she spat.

"I'm not scared of _anyone_," a muffled voice came through the door.

"Then prove it! This isn't you, be the Ice Queen you keep claimin' to be!" Tracey jabbed the door with her finger. "Go in there and show everyone that there's nowt they can do or say that will bother you. You _know_ that's only gonna wind them up more. If you yield, you're lettin'em win."

Another second passed before the lock clicked out of place again, but this time the door wasn't brought open a inches, but was swung open complete. Daphne exited, book in hand, and an ugly scowl written across her face.

"When did _you_ get clever?"

She pushed instantly past her and began down the corridor to the Slytherin compartments, Tracey did a quick jog to catch her up.

"I'm not just a cute face with a fat arse!" she cheered.

"Don't flatter yourself... " she heard Daphne mumble from ahead of her.

Tracey laughed aloud.

"Oh, _you're_ the comedian now?"

The two slowed to open the cart door. As they crossed into the shared carriage, familiar faces began appearing around them. A few sent grim stares their way, others caught sight of them and immediately turned their attention elsewhere. None of them said anything, which Tracey counted as a blessing.

"Wanna swap anythin' else?" she continued. "I mean, I think you'd look pretty cute with my hat on top of you! And I'd look even _better_ with Harry on top of me."

"I'm leaving him."

If she had been walking any faster she'd have fallen over her own feet. Daphne didn't slow her pace, or turn around with an expected grin on her face. Nothing of her tone used lead to the conclusion she was joking with what she just said.

"You're _what_?"

During the split second she'd zoned out for, Daphne had come to a halt in front of her. She budged to the side to see what stopped her and saw Pansy Parkinson staring up at them expectantly. Daphne shifted her bag off her shoulder, placed it on the table and proceeded unzip and place her book inside it, all the while Pansy was watching her like a mother who had caught her child misbehaving.

When Daphne then moved to take a seat opposite her, Pansy finally found her words.

"_What_ are you doing?"

Daphne stared at her.

"Sitting?"

Pansy threw a hand in the air and practically shrieked, "There's _other_ carriages…?"

"Then move to one."

For a second, Tracey's hand itched towards her wand in her back pocket. She was ready to throw down any day, but Daphne's boldness had taken even her off guard.

Reluctantly, Pansy seemed to remember whatever had gone down between them last year and - with a face of utter contempt and disgust - grabbed her bag from the shelf above and marched away. Daphne continued placing her bookbag away as if nothing had happened.

After taking a moment to calm her beating heart, Tracey took Pansy's still warm seat. It took her a full second of composing for her to remember what conversation they were just in the middle of.

"_Why_ are you leavin' Harry!?" she said in her best stage whisper.

"Because, I am."

"What do you _mean_…"

She began to shout before stopping herself. As Daphne settled into the seat opposite her, Tracey leaned in closer to her, the usual perkiness now drained from her face.

"This is 'cause of your dad, innit? What, is he cuttin' off your inheritance? What's he threatin' to do?"

She didn't appear to have an answer for that one. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. There was something on her mind, but for whatever reason, she didn't want to talk about it.

"Daffy?"

"It's dangerous for him to be around me!"

Tracey made a choking-like sound and threw her hands into the air.

"He's Harry-Freakin-Potter, it's more dangerous for you to be around _him_! Listen to me - that boy is the best bloody thing in your life and you are not breakin' up with him."

She shook her head, her face still dispassionate.

"It's not open for discussion. I've already decided."

Tracey brought a fist to her mouth to avoid shouting.

"You're _such_ a… I don't know why I… I _hate_ it when you…"

Daphne was deliberately being awkward with her. There was a lot more to what was going on than what she was telling her, undoubtedly. It was exactly the same thing she tried to do when she'd caught her with the love bite on her neck, but that was at least understandable. Tracey sank down into her seat, giving up on her words.

The look on Daphne's face told her this wasn't going to be an easy pry. She was missing too many facts to make an argument for her point, and Daphne knew it.

"I just don't get it…" she sighed in defeat," ... you were so happy with him?"

Daphne nodded solemnly.

"That's why I have to do this."

"You don't _have_ to do anything," she shot back immediately. "You're choosing to do it."

"Correct."

Her nostrils flared and she suddenly pushed herself upright in her seat.

"When I said be the Ice Queen, I didn't mean to me! _Talk_ to me! If you're bein'… bein' _made_ to do this, or… or if you've found someone else, just say! I saw what you went through last time two of yous broke up and it broke my heart seein' you like that!" she put a fist over her chest for extra emphasis. "You can't just do a one-twenty so quickly!"

Her rant had come out louder than she'd intended, which dragged the eyes of a few classmates to their direction. Daphne didn't seem to notice them, as her expression was now filled with a mild anger, not dissimilar to the one Pansy had a moment ago.

"_Listen_ to me…"

But she wasn't able to finish.

All of a sudden - and moving at a startling rate - a thick darkness and overpowering stench shrouded the carriage.

Tracey, blinking at that exact moment, struggled to realise what had happened until the smoke completely enveloped her. Shocked screams filled her ears and as she opened her mouth to yell, an acidic vinegar taste strangled her vocal chords. Daphne was completely gone in the sudden darkness, which was made worse by the fact that keeping her eyes open for more than a few seconds made them burn. She threw herself from her seat, choking and collided with the back of someone, though she couldn't tell who.

Supporting herself on the table, she snatched her wand from her back pocket and jabbed it frantically into the air. Her lips moved, but no sound came out and little more than pathetic sparks dropped from the tip of her wand.

Apparently the little magic she was able to muster without speaking was able to do its job, slowly the darkness began to fade into a heavy mist, until slowly evaporating altogether. It had disappeared a lot easier than she had expected, which made the rest become obvious to her.

"_That was… that was Peruvian…_" she wheezed, and then beat on her chest a few times before continuing, "_... Peruvian Instant... Darkness Powder…_ some little shit must have got it from the Weasley's shop!"

She had addressed that to Daphne, but on turning around, found the person she'd bumped into was a fourth year whose name didn't jump to mind. Confused, she scanned the area for her friend. Despite the short amount of time the darkness had actually been around, the place was in ruins. Girls cradled each other screaming, and from the other end of the carriage she spotted Draco and Pansy glaring back at her with troubled looks.

Daphne, meanwhile, hadn't moved an inch from where she had last seen her. Exact same, bolt-upright position, but now with a ghostly white face. If Tracey's eyes weren't still suffering from the magical powder, she'd even say she was shaking.

"Are you... okay?"

She didn't respond immediately, but was then able to muster a small nod. It looked like anything more would cause her to vomit.

Tracey shuffled back into her seat. Any distraction or burning senses from what just happened instantly vanished from her mind. The look on Daphne's face was churning her stomach.

"Daffy, whatever's goin' on with you…" she leaned in, and a very serious tone said, "I'm askin' you, genuinely, as your blood, talk to me."

It looked like it took her a second to hear her. When she did, she seemed to physically calm down a little, though not much. She took Tracey's hand in her own, which again, took her by surprise, as she was well aware of Daphne's displeasure of physical affection.

"Tracey, you will always be one of the most important people to me," she offered a false smile. "With that being said, I'm asking you, _as_ my blood, and one of the most important people to me... I need to do this on my own. Please, don't question me on this one thing."

Tracey was stunned.

Her mouth hung open. She'd never seen Daphne act this way.

Never in their entire life of knowing each other did she even guess that the expression and tone of voice being produced right now could come from this girl. Part of her wanted to push, part of her wanted, surprisingly, to accept the pleading look on her face and leave it at that. But all of her knew that she was not going to be satisfied with either solution.

"Just… tell me you're safe? Answer that - answer _honestly_ \- and I'll leave it."

She nodded slowly, continuing her smile.

"I'm safe."

Tracey chewed the inside of her lip.

Daphne thought she was a much better liar than she actually was.


	3. The Long Night

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station around quarter past six, just as the sun was just threatening to drop below the horizon, creating a gorgeous orange glow that in any other scenario, would have been a rather speculator way to begin the school year.

Daphne's heart was in her mouth as she stepped down off the train, as it had been just about the entire journey since she left the toilet. This was the worst of it, she knew. She also knew that no matter how much preparation she gave herself, it wasn't going to go how she planned. The student population moved out and towards the self-pulled carriages, but she slowed to linger behind them.

Tracey wanted to wait with her, but soon realised exactly what her intentions were. After much convincing, she reluctantly went ahead and left Daphne alone in the station. She just needed to keep the same stone-faced expression she had while talking to Tracey and she'd done fine.

That was the plan, but it was a fruitless hope. Even just hearing Tracey's voice when she told her was enough to make her start doubting herself. She may be thundering towards a head-on collision, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was still no sign of Harry as the last students emptied out of the train. Tracey and her had been some of the first off, so there wasn't a chance he'd gotten off before them. She'd also deliberately chosen her uphill position so she'd been looking down at the crowd as they approached and passed, and again, she was certain that he hadn't passed her.

Just as she was about to call it quits, Draco, of all people, emerged into sight. At first she thought he hadn't noticed her, but as he moved past her, he turned to her with a sneer.

"If you're waiting on your boyfriend, he'll probably be a while."

Trust reality to try and make this even more difficult on her than it already had to be.

When Draco left she waited an extra five minutes to be absolutely sure, then Daphne stepped back onto the train via the same exit she'd left. The first carriage was completely empty, bar the blinds bent out of position and empty crisp wrappers on the floor that told her this was once a first-year carriage. She crossed into the second, and again, nothing but ruins.

Approaching the carriage she and Tracey had been sitting in earlier, she noticed something; this one had the blinds on it's door down.

Stepping inside she found all of it's windows were drawn shut as well. That was unusual, as they definitely were not drawn when she had left, nor had any of the other carriages been tidied up like that. Not thinking anything more of it, she marched down the space between the seats, then proceed to trip over a solid piece of air and launch herself the remainder of the way down the carriage.

* * *

They were just about within sight of the grounds gates when Harry was finally able to speak. Initially he was unable to move or walk at all, but a few counter curses and he'd been at least able to get a few feet without falling. Uphill had been the hard part, not merely because she was having to drag her luggage up, but also now had his weight on her shoulder. With his glasses and wand wrapped in his invisible cloak in one hand and the other gripping tightly at his shirt, she had just about reached the top of the hill when she finally collapsed onto one knee. He finally had the strength to support his own weight and relieved himself from her, which could not have come a moment sooner.

On the bright side, the exercise had done a huge favour on her part, as now it was easy to pretend her pounding senses was from the exhaustion and not her raging anxieties.

Harry staggered to side, catching his breathing.

"You're a lifesaver…" he wheezed. "Malfoy got me with a stunning jinx, if… If you hadn't have come…"

He recovered enough to turn and get a look at her, hands on his hips. Despite his nose being all but entirely exploded across his face, he was smiling brightly. Not like Daphne's forced, through-the-teeth-smile she'd been giving earlier. A genuine, happy smile, and one that she was about to ruin.

"Daphne…" he moved to help her to her feet.

She took a quick step back and held an arm out between them for good measure.

He stopped in his tracks. His smile didn't disappear completely, but did fade slightly.

"What's up?"

Daphne braced herself. The next part of the conversation did not feel like she was a part of it.

"We can't see each other anymore."

After she spoke, Harry's face turned into that of a slapped child. It took clearly took him a second to decide on his emotions. He looked puzzled, like he was waiting for a further explanation, but as her words seemed to add up in his head that look then changed to despair. From an outside perspective it might have even looked like she was the one who had just broke his nose.

It shattered her heart instantly to see him like that, and even more so because she was the one putting him through it.

"What do you mean?"

He seemed to ask that more out of confusion than anything.

"You need to stay away from me from now on. For both of our sake. We have had our fun, but it's over now."

Her voice was grave and serious. She wasn't asking, she was warning.

She wished she could speak to him honestly. If she had the courage, she would break down and confess everything that had happened to her. If she could make him understand her situation then he'd work with her, no doubt about it. He'd want to help her and stop at nothing until she was safety by his side again.

And that was _exactly_ why she needed this to be a situation he couldn't follow her up on. The worst thing she could do was be around him. She was saving his life, so there was not a hint of regret in her mind right now.

His expression twisted, he looked to be trying to find his words. After a moments more considering, he eventually settled on a desolate voice.

"But ...why?"

She was about to spew more horrible rubbish to him, but the words never left her throat. She realised in that second that her willpower had run its course. There was a full script prepared in her head with words specifically designed to hurt him; about her finding somebody better, someone stronger, and that she was an idiot ever being attracted to him. Words to make him hate her and stay as far away from her as he could. Yet, in spite of all the planning and rehearsing done in her head, never once had the words feel like hers and even now, when she needed them, they never seemed further away.

Instead she was silent. Though her glare remained, she was unable to keep up her facade any longer. Her full drawn-out breakup speech wasn't going to happen, but she'd gotten out the bare minimum of what she'd needed to say.

Now she needed to get away from him. She took her luggage in her hand and resumed her ascension up the hill.

"Daphne?" he shouted instantly after her.

She marched forward, continuing to blank him until she was almost within sight of the carriages.

Once there, with any luck the last of the students would have already been taken up and she could have the trip in isolation. Then she could go back to locking herself away in her room. That was what she needed right now.

Isolation was the only constantly reassuring companion for her. It was only when she decided to stray from it's comfort zone that all of this trouble had started in the first place. She could be the Daphne she wanted to be when she was on her own, without fear of saying the wrong thing to the wrong person or letting childish bodily urges overtake her. Now it was time for her to return there, because this did not need to be any more painful than it already had to be.

Her thought train was interrupted when a sudden rough tug on her arm dragged her back to reality. She was whirled around on the spot, and came face-to-face with a bloodied, mangled nose.

"Daphne!"

"_Don't_ touch me!"

Without leaving a second of time to think, she tore her arm from his grasp, snatched her wand from her sleeve and jammed it into his chest. He backed away instantly, but his mood did not falter.

"Sorry! Just, Daphne... whats going on?!"

There was a sincerity in his voice that caught her off-guard.

It would have been so much easier if he just shouted at her. That was all she and her father did, shout relentlessly at each other then apologise after it got out of hand. She could handle that just fine, it was the sensitive stuff that broke her down. He showed no intention of arguing with her, and even when he grabbed her it hadn't been at full force.

"What's gone on? If I've done something wrong… if somethings' changed... just tell me what this is all about!" he pleaded. "Is it to do with Malfoy?"

She shook her head. She knew nothing she could say would settle him down, and the only things she could say would also compromise him in the process.

"It's not, Draco, Harry. And it's not you... "

"Then what is it? Who is it? Talk to me about it, I'll listen."

"I'm trying to help you..."

"How is _this_ helping me?" he snapped back. "We've just finally got things sorted out! I don't see what your problem is?"

He was getting progressively more frustrated, she could tell. She didn't blame him either, she knew she was being completely uncooperative, but that was the plan. Nonetheless, despite his rising anger, she never felt like she was in any danger. In fact, she wished with all her heart that she could give him solace he was begging for right now.

"Things aren't _sorted out_. They never will be, Harry. Not for you and me... " she shook her head solemnly as she gestured between them. "It was nice while it lasted but we agreed we would only do this for a short time. It was never on the cards for us to have a future together. That's caught up with us now. I'm sorry about that, really. But it's ov-."

That time it had come out differently.

It was the apology that finally did it. This time it had gotten to her as well. She snapped shut her eyes and knew if she opened them again then tears would start to follow. Nobody had seen her cry before and that wasn't about to start now.

She pushed herself back to Borgin and Burkes. She visualised the smooth, pale face of the Dark Lord. The presence of his gigantic snake as it crossed her path. The ominous cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange in the background. The yellow eyes of the wolf man.

She had met You-Know-Who on good terms and felt absolutely petrified. She latched onto that fear.

She knew being on the wrong side of the Dark Lord meant a fate worse than death - and that was if the terror of it didn't kill you first. That would be the fate to await Harry if this didn't go exactly how she planned. The Dark Lord would be angry with her for the breakup, but she'd twist the tale when she relayed it back to him, just like the first time. She could cover her own back, but her words couldn't do anything to protect Harry.

The only protection she could give him was her absence.

"Daphne… I don't want this. I know we weren't seeing each other for long, but you said yourself - how much we've sacrificed for this - we owe it to ourselves! We've earned this! After everything that was said, after what you said to me, what I said to you, y-you can't just spring this out of nowhere! Talk to me! You make me happy, Daphne, and I _know_ you feel the same way."

If his words had come a second earlier they might have been the final thing needed to get through to her, but it was too late. She'd found her resolve, and with a steadying breath, opened her eyes.

"But it's not enough."

He responded instantly, pleading.

"Then what _will_ be enough?"

She took another breath, and tried again in her calmest tone.

"Just... Just leave me alone."

"Why?"

He himself looked border-lining on tears. His face was red, unrelated to the blood smeared across it, and his fists were balled up in anger. Again, she felt no anger, just sympathy for him. She had long come to terms over the holidays about this happening, but he was having it all dropped on him at once.

"Why!?" he repeated, angrier, and then, "Because I've gone through a lot so we could be together! Not as much as you - I know - but enough to deserve an explanation why!"

He was being relentless. Obviously this was very different for him than it was for her. Every word from Daphne's mouth was an uphill struggle, whereas he was able to shout and scream to his heart's desire, even if it was to no avail.

"I'm…"

Her voice cracked and she started again, quieter.

"I'm… trying... to save you."

"From who?"

She was silent. She'd said too much already, she was risking herself just by talking to him and now she was in full-blown compromising himself. She knew too well that the walls had ears and eyes in at Hogwarts.

She needed to get away, Harry was clever, she knew he'd be able to figure it out her implication from there. Likely the only reason he hadn't done now was because his mind was too clogged to focus.

"From _who_, Daphne?!"

"WHO DO YOU THINK?"

A nearby flow of crows suddenly left their nest. Harry recoiled slightly, taking a step back. He too, looked suddenly like he was about to make a run for it.

It wasn't just her scream that startled him, but the implication behind it as well.

"... Daphne?"

He had said her name like that a lot of times this night, but that was the first one that actually sounded like a question.

She stormed away from the scene. An under her breath spell and her luggage suddenly snapped into her hand. He shouted something behind her, probably more begs for explanation, but she couldn't hear him. The ringing heartbeat in her ears had blocked out all noises, and she was struggling to see the path ahead of her through her tear-stained eyes.

Her heart was in her mouth as she reached the top of the in-climb, and it came with great relief when she finally saw the tall tops of the grounds gates, each one topped with a golden winged boar. She was cold, angry, hungry and about a second away from her knees buckling out from under her.

As she emerged out into a clearing, she walked straight into sight of three people that she definitely did not need to be dealing with right now.

"There you are!" Professor Fitwick squeaked. "I did wonder what all that commotion was about! I've been looking all over for you, we thought Mister Malfoy and Miss Lovegood were the last ones! Don't suppose Mister Potter is with you?"

An almost instinctual reaction happened inside of her, suddenly sucking every tear back inside her skull and returning her face to it's usual appearance. Filch and Professor Snape lingered by the entrance manning some kind of makeshift security station, where they stood arguing with Draco. Luna Lovegood, of all people, floated nearby, and appeared to have been in conversation with Professor Flitwick a moment earlier.

To say Daphne's arrival had not gone unnoticed by the group would have been an understatement. A second later, Harry emerged into the clearing behind her.

"Oh, 'ere we go…" Filch mumbled, with scattered smirk's leaked over from his and Draco's direction.

"Right, good, ahhh, so we're all here then..." the Professor turned to check something off his checklist, but the drop in his tone told Daphne that he and everyone else was fully able to hear what exactly what had just gone on around the corner.

"Could I take both of your names, please?"

It took her a second to register that he was talking to her. When she did, she was able to muster little more than a croaky answer.

"What?"

"Names, please."

"But you've known us for years?" Harry asked in an equally distressed voice behind her.

"No exceptions, Potter!"

She began to feel the nearby eyes on her. She could, literally, not have a worse group of people seeing her exposed and defeated like this. The hatred bubbling inside her blazed a white-hot. She would rather walk the entire way to the castle right than allow herself further humiliation. She moved past the Transfiguration Professor with as little aggression as possible, then made a beeline for Filch's security desk.

"Ah, well, except for her, I suppose..." Flitwick mumbled. "Now, name?"

Daphne slumped her suitcase down on the desk, then made it her absolute mission not to look behind her as Harry gave his name and proceeded to fall in line behind her. The disapproving glare emitting from Professor Snape was a present one in the corner of her eye.

"Harry, you look positively awful!" Lovegood said from somewhere nearby, "Are you quite alright?"

"Fell over."

"Terribly clumsy of you, Potter!" Draco's voice leaked over from the side.

A wild fire surged inside of Daphne. The snarky attitude she'd seen off Draco today was a far cry from the whimpering little boy she'd seen him as at Borkin and Burkes. If she'd have been in any better mood, she'd have shut him down for it.

"At least I didn't land in Azkaban," Harry spat back.

"Do hurry up, Mister Malfoy," Professor Snape scowled him, then turned to Harry behind, whom she had still managed to not look at.

"You. Clean yourself up and do the same. This is the last carriage back and I'm not having you bleeding on my robes before the term even starts."

"This is the _only_ carriage back?" Daphne asked suddenly.

"Correct, Miss Greengrass. A tight squeeze, but I suppose that's what latecomers deserve. Collect your stuff and pile in."

She snatched her luggage from Flich's table. She didn't make eye contact with another living being as she marched away from the group and was the first to enter the carriage, pushing herself to the furthest possible corner.

This trip to the castle was going to be the longest night of her life.

* * *

Daphne may have remained silent the entire trip up, but she felt as though her chest might explode her every second of it. She'd left the physical realm around the half-way point of the journey and had fallen into repeating hers and Harry's exchange in her head. Each time she sat through it she found a rising regret in her throat and an anger at the situation she'd been forced into.

The bandages under her sleeve practically begged to be scratched.

By the time they arrived at the castle, her body was generating waves of hatred so powerful that it seemed incredible the entire carriage could not feel them burning inside her. They reached the doors to the entrance hall and at last stepped out. The great oak front doors swung open into the now Educational Decree-free-entrance hall, and a distant burst of talk and laughter greeted them. That, as well as the sudden smell of food, knocked her sick to her stomach.

"Time for another fun and shining year at Hogwarts," Professor Snape said.

Her mind exploded into a vulgar, profanity-ridden string of insults that she could tell, by the glare coming down his pointed nose, he had been able to overhear.

As she neared the crowded Great Hall, she wanted nothing more than to pelt down to the dungeons as fast as her weak stomach would allow, but knew her lateness already had her on thin ice. Instead, she took the lead of the group and marched through the open doors; if anything to distance herself from these people as quickly as possible. The Great Hall was decorated as bright as usual, but it all just appeared as a shimmering blur to her as she sped across the room as fast as her feet could carry her.

She was passing the Hufflepuff table when people really started to stare, and by the time the whispers had broken out and the pointing had started, she was able to shove herself down beside Tracey.

"Did you _deck_ him!?" Tracey squeaked under her breath.

"What!?" she spat back in a harsh whisper.

"'The hell happened to him!?"

She stuck her arm out and pointed at Harry in the least subtle way possible, who was across the room rapidly descending on his own table. Daphne tore her arm from the air and slammed it down onto the table, snagging the attention of the few people who weren't already ogling at her.

"I didn't do that," she clarified in a quieter tone.

"But-"

"Tracey, shut up! _Seriously_, not now."

She was very aware that Pansy, Millicent and Draco - who had just joined the table nearby - were watching. She had very much planned to keep the breakup under wraps, preferably hoping that eventually their whole scandal of being together would fade from the public memory and end up a rumour rather than fact. But of course, Draco would spread what he had heard at the gates as far and wide as he could, which definitely wouldn't be helped by their inconspicuous entrance the entire school had witnessed.

Daphne reached across the table, grabbed a spoon-full of mashed potatoes and splattered them across her plate. Without another look at Tracey, or anyone around her, she tucked into her meal and did her best to disassociate herself with the startled eyes coming from all directions.

What was done, was done.

She'd just about traded her soul to do it, but she had finally gotten through the worst of it.

Before long the talk and laughter echoing around the Hall faded almost instantly, and although she didn't dare stray her eyes from the sight of her food, she knew the Headmaster had taken his place at the podium.

"Now as you know," Professor Dumbledore began, ".. each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight, and I believe you have the right to know why. Once, there was a young man, who like you, sat in this very room. Walked this castles corridors and slept under its roof. He seemed, to all the world, a student just like any other. His name was Tom Riddle."

The atmosphere in the room changed suddenly, even enough for Daphne to notice. Her attention now finally rested on the headmaster.

"Today, of course, he's known all over the world by another name. Which is why," he continued, "as I stand looking out at you all tonight, I am reminded of a sobering factor. Every day… every hour… this very minute, in fact… dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle. And in the end, their greatest weapon is _you_. Just something to think about. Now pip-pip, off to bed!"

Daphne's eyes leaked across the table to Draco.

Her proclamation earlier was perhaps correct. This night was indeed going to be the longest of her life; it had started weeks ago in Borgin and Burkes and was going to follow her for a very long time after this.

* * *

Though around him students began to rise from their seats, Harry remained firmly glued to his.

Hermione was dabbing another tissue over his bleeding nose, but he paid her no mind. His eyes were dead set on the pair of blonde heads across the room.

"_Please_ say something, Harry! Just tell us what happened," she implored.

"Pretty bloody obvious what happened, isn't it?" Ron grimaced. "Him turnin' up with a bloody nose and them two sitting together! She decked him one then left him for Malfoy, didn't she mate?"

"That's ridiculous, Ron!" Hermione scolded him. "Harry, please, people are leaving, will you talk to us?"

"She left me."

"Knew it! Nasty bitch!"

"Shut up, Ron! What did you say, Harry?"

Harry moved suddenly. He snatched the tissues from Hermione's hand, and without a second glance back at any of his housemates, stormed from the room.

"Harry!" Hermione called after him.

He didn't slow, and carried through the crowd and out of the Great Hall on his own. Hermione turned to Ron.

"Oh, well done!"

"'Ow was that my fault?"

"You could have been a little bit more sensitive! Oh, but of course, little Ronald has never heard of the word! I don't know how I managed with you two this many years, you're both complete children!"

Hermione stormed out of the room after Harry.

Ron frowned, and took another bite of his chicken drumstick.

"Bit harsh."

* * *

Harry pushed his way through the growing crowd of students and was, after a bit of a hassle, able to get ahead of them. He carried on through the empty halls all the way up to the common room, where even then he didn't stop until he reached the boys dormitory.

His newly arrived luggage beside his bed went ignored and he launched himself onto the mattress, and dragged both curtains closed in an instant. The run up had made his nose bleed even more profusely, he knew he would have to go to Madam Pomfrey about it soon, but not just yet.

He needed to be alone for a few minutes. An hour, tops. Then he could dive back into the world and explain himself to everyone. Then he'd give Ron and Hermione the full details of the interactions he and Daphne had.

First, he just had to come to accept them himself.

It just didn't make sense.

If she wanted to leave him - if Daphne genuinely wanted them to break up - he would respect her decision. He wasn't about to force anybody into something they were uncomfortable with. He'd try to change her mind, sure, no doubt, he'd try to solve problems and fix whatever it was that was pushing her to leave. But if all those failed, and she said with all honestly that she wanted to leave him, he wouldn't force her to stay, no matter how sad it made him.

But Daphne had been talking out of her arse that entire conversation.

The hell did she think she was she playing at? She didn't even try to make him believe what she was saying, she didn't honestly think he'd be satisfied with leaving it like that, did she? She was smart, there wasn't a chance she actually assumed he'd sit and go along with those piss-poor excuses, did she? She wasn't even trying. He had seen Daphne broken down and emotional, he had seen her lie, he had seen her manipulate people into getting what she wanted. This wasn't any of those.

He couldn't figure out if it pissed him off, confused, or upset him that she wasn't even trying. Eventually he settled on all of the above.

She was deliberately keeping him in the dark about something and wasn't even trying to hide it. She already knew he'd fight for her, what more did she want? She didn't occur to him as the insecure type, she wasn't about to play hard to get, but nothing else struck him as a reason for her bizarre, outright-stubborn behaviour.

He was hoping for a relaxed year. There was no Umbridge, no Tri-Wizard Tournament, no Dementors or Basilisk roaming the castle grounds. His only threat was Voldemort, and with the Ministry finally on his side, the Dark Lord had never felt further away. But since when did things ever run as smoothly as he wanted them to?

If Daphne genuinely wanted to leave him - whatever her reason may be - he'd respect it. But she didn't want to, and it was written all over her face.

A part of his brain, one that he previously hadn't known existed, jumped to life. It brought back a memory, attached with it were feelings of a guilty nostalgia. It took him back to the Room of Requirement, one of his meetings with Daphne. He couldn't recall the exact words used, but he remembered how they made him feel. She had asked him what _he_ wanted to do, and he'd been unable to answer. It was the first time anyone had asked him that directly.

He'd lived a lifetime of falling in line and doing what others told him, because if he kept them happy, that would mean they'd like him. Only, the Dursleys never liked him. Even though he did what they said, they still never liked him. He always did what Snape said, but he never liked him either. So if people aren't going to like him regardless of what he did, why did he still go along with it? Why not do whatever he wanted?

It was in this same sitting that she told him he had earned the right to be selfish. She was at least partly right. What she should have said, was that he had earned the right to be _happy_. Because it was her, Daphne Greengrass, that made him happy. He had earned the right to be happy, and if she thought she could take it away from him without a proper explanation, then she had another thing coming.

With that resolution in mind, Harry began mentally preparing himself. A few moments ago he'd heard other guys enter the dorm and start unpacking their things, of whom probably had no idea he was already here. It was time to go and explain to others what happened, even if that just consisted of telling them not to worry about it.

As he climbed out of bed, a jaded feeling told him this would be a long night ahead of him.


	4. Terms Start

Daphne Greengrass, or more accurately - the newly anointed Prefect, Daphne Greengrass - held her head high as she marched through the dungeon corridor.

The Prefect role was one she had been promised since her second year, so it had come with a great deal of annoyance to her when Professor Umbridge removed the positions at the start of year. Probably part of the reason she'd joined the Inquisitorial Squad was to scrape back some of that lost pride, and now that had been seemingly disbanded, she was left with a sour taste in her mouth over a full year of _Prefect-ing_ gone to waste. Now the castle was fully cleansed of her venomous influence, the shining badge of self-worth sat deservedly on her chest.

It had actually gone a long way at improving what had been, up until this point, an awful start to the new term. Lessons finally started today, which meant no more time left avoiding people.

She'd just picked up her new timetable; Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Apparition, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic and Arithmancy were her chosen N.E.W.T subjects this year. Those were the qualifications she needed to become a medical Curse Breaker, a job she'd ever thought she'd have, but nonetheless was studying for it. Tracey wanted to become a Quidditch Player, Astoria wanted to be a singer, Pansy wanted to be the white man's whore, but Daphne never found herself such specific aspirations. Or, maybe _specific_ wasn't the right word. _Realistic_ aspirations was probably a more accurate, since her childhood dream of becoming the Minister of Magic was a tad too impractical to pursue in any realistic sense. Medical Curse Breaking, on the other hand, composed all the subjects she was good at, was a very highly-regarded job, not to mention a very well-paid one. A career in it could easily see her well into retirement, and it was about time that she started thinking practically, and not hopefully, about her future.

Her teeth tightened together.

Just like that, her mood dropped. She could practically feel the melancholy seeping into her thoughts.

This had been a recurring thing that she had to keep pulling herself on. Every time she saw, heard, or even thought of something that reminded her remotely of Harry, she'd be catapulted into a torrent of gloom and anxiety. That's why she'd done her best to keep so busy since getting to the castle; she couldn't think about the looming misery of her life if she didn't have time to think.

"Are you gonna shit?"

Her snapped her head to the side.

"What?"

"Your face just dropped," Tracey grimaced. "Thought you were about to unleash something foul."

Daphne scowled at her.

"You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Been told before."

Tracey was joking, but didn't have the usual chipper look on her face. Come to think of it, she hadn't been much of way at all since they'd gotten to Hogwarts. She was still being an annoying loudmouth, but that was seemingly ingrained into her soul at this point. As far as she could figure out, this was Tracey being mad at her. Mad at her, realistically, probably for a good reason.

"What lessons did you take?"

Tracey handed her an already-scrunched-up timetable, but otherwise made no effort to answer. It took Daphne a second for her eyes to focus on the paper through the crowd of students around them. She'd taken Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Flying and Apparition, the standard lessons she assumed Tracey would pick.

"You only picked four?"

"Only had to pick four."

"You had to pick a _minimum_ of four, and a maximum of seven."

"Right. And?"

Daphne sent another glare her way. They were barely minutes into their day and she was already having to put up with Tracey being childish over something out of her control. She was now a Prefect and had half a mind to give her a detention for insubordination, but she knew she'd just receive a mocking laugh to the face.

Instead, making the mature decision, Daphne turned on her heels and stormed in the other direction.

_"Daphne!"_

The voice made her freeze on the spot. It was not Tracey's, but belong to someone she never expected in the halls of Hogwarts again.

She slowly turned around, her eyes rapidly examining the sea of moving students to check her ears had not betrayed her. Low and behold, they had not. A familiar, raven-haired girl, but now in Slytherin uniform, was bounding towards her.

She was pulled her into a joyous hug.

"It iz 'o good to zee you again!"

Daphne went stiff upon the contact, but eventually settled into it and did her best at returning the hug. She pulled away, fumbling through her confusion to form a smile.

"Dominique...? Why are you here?"

The french girl smiled hard and pulled her tie from her sweater, waving it on show.

"Ah' have just tranzfered! I waz put into Slytherin 'ouse, like you!"

Despite what was very plain in front of her eyes, Daphne's mind was still playing catch up.

During their fourth year, Daphne found herself wholly uninterested in the events of the Triwizard tournament and spent most of its match time in the castle. It was during this time she met Dominique Flamel, the younger sister of a visiting Beauxbatons student, who was in the same boat as her. The two had rapidly become study-buddies and when she had departed back to France at the end of the year, the two said they'd keep in contact. They did back and forth for a few weeks, but it eventually ceased all together, largely due to Daphne's life suddenly getting more interesting with Harry's involvement.

Seeing her now, out of absolutely nowhere, and in a Hogwarts uniform - which was quite different to her light-blue Beauxbatons dress - pulled the rug out from under her feet completely. She was so dazed by her sudden appearance that she hadn't even noticed Tracey catch her up.

"Is that… Dom…?"

Tracey ogled the girl. Dominique threw herself into her arms.

"Tracey, Bonjour! I am 'ere!"

Tracey stared at Daphne with the same confusion in her eyes, but with an added hard blush on her cheeks, as she wrapped her arms around the giddy french girl. Daphne suppressed the urge to let a smug smile leak through.

Tracey fancied the pants off of Dominique.

This was definitely going to be interesting. She did love her schadenfreude.

"What… what're you… what're you… what're you doin' here, Dom?" Tracey forced out a nervous laugh.

The girl pulled back and did a tight jump onto her tip-toes in excitement.

"Moi family haz moved to UK! Ah hav' come to Hoggywarts!"

Tracey's face broke out into a huge grin, which then turned into a pained blush as she caught Daphne face.

"That's… that's amazin'!" she laughed, now determined not to look even remotely in Daphne's direction. "And you're in Slytherin, too! We're the best house, you lucked out on that one."

Dominique nodded happily.

As she and Tracey dove into conversation, Daphne couldn't shake the girls voice sending a ringing through her ears. Had her accent always been so thick? The Flamel family was old, so it would make sense they were more traditional in their culture, but she swore her English wasn't this poor two years ago. The rest of the Beauxbatons girls didn't have such trouble with English, did they? With any luck that would settle down in time... it better had, if she would be having her as a classmate.

Daphne had to physically shake her head to bring her back into the conversation.

"What lessons have you taken?"

It looked like it took Dominique a second to hear her, but that was probably because of the crowded corridor more than her poor dialect. She pulled out a neatly folded timetable and handed it to her, but then read the subjects aloud from it anyway.

"Ah've taken Care ov' Magical Beast, Defenze Against zhe Dark Art, Potions, Tranzfiguration, Apparitions and 'Istory of Magic!"

She did the adding up in her head.

That was two classes they all shared together, one that just Daphne and Tracey would share and five that Daphne would be sharing with Dominique. And _no_ lessons that Tracey and Dominique would have alone together, which she could see the realisation of dawning on Tracey's face.

"See?" she gave a cruel smile, "_Dominique_ thinks it's important to take a good number of lessons."

Tracey pulled a morbid scowl.

"We are goin' to Potions lesson now, Daphne?"

"_I_ am."

"Can I come with you? I do not fully 'member my way around, Hoggywarts is a big cazle."

The Potions classroom was only feet away from them, but Daphne did not let the opportunity to pay Tracey back for her recent attitude.

"Well... I am the new Prefect, so you came to the right person. We'll see you at dinner, Tracey."

Daphne gave a horribly twisted smile and waved at her half-sister, which went unreturned. Beside her Dominique waved as well, oblivious.

"Au revoir, Tracey!"

The two turned and began down the corridor together, leaving Tracey on her own in the sea of students. It took a few minutes before she was fully able to move again.

"That was cold. Even for you."

* * *

When they arrived in the Potions Classroom, Daphne found that barely anybody had elected to take Potions as their options this year. Dominique, Draco, Pansy and herself were the only Slytherins in the room, as well as four Ravenclaws that she didn't recall the name of, a trio of Gryffindors, who thankfully she only recognised one of - it being Granger - and a single Hufflepuff on his own. The small class was probably due to a mixture of students not being able to reach the high standards set in by Professor Snape, and the fact that anyone actually interested in the subject was probably put off by it's teacher.

Truth be told, if it had not been for Potions being a require NEWT for a career in Medical Curse Breaking, Daphne wouldn't have taken the subject for that very reason. She'd taken a leaf out of Harry's book there and had been rapidly growing to despise the Professor for his role in what played out last year. Now he had truly placed himself forever and irrevocably beyond the point of her forgiveness.

For all intents and purposes, inside these castle walls Professor Snape might as well have been the Dark Lord himself. He acted as an extension of his will; he was to be her guide in her mission and she had been carefully avoiding him because of that. He knew what she had been through over the holidays, he knew what her task was and he was aware of what it meant for her. Hogwarts used to provide an escape from her the dark presence in her life, but now it had finally wormed its way inside. True, it may have been her father that made her do it, and his will only came as an extension of the Dark Lords… but at this moment, Daphne found nobody else she wanted to blame more for her breakup with Harry than Professor Snape - and she _invited_ him to read her mind, because she wanted him to know that.

All of this added to her surprise even more when the classroom door swung open, and instead of the Professors icy entrance, they were instead met with a short, plump man, with a face that couldn't hurt a fly.

"_This_ iz the scary man I 'ave 'eard about?" Dominique whispered to her.

She shook her head.

"I don't know who that is. He must be new."

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Draco asked obnoxiously loudly.

The mans mouth cracked into a beaming grin and he let out a jolly laugh.

"Ahh, now then, now then! I am Professor Horace Slughorn, and I will be your NEWTS-Level Potions Master!"

A room-wide sigh of relief echoed around the chamber, which went hardly noticed by Professor Slughorn, who was already unpacking his things on Professor Snape's desk.

"What happened to Professor Snape?" Pansy asked.

"Not to worry my dear… erm, Parkinson, wasn't it? Yes, yes, that's right! Well, it would seem that Professor Snape has been promoted to the Defence Against the Dark Arts post this year."

A room-wide groan of annoyance now repeated around the chamber, one which didn't go unnoticed this time.

"Yes, yes, settle down now, shall we?" The new Professor chuckled. "I understand Professor Snape has set up _quite_ a reputation for himself in this castle, but rest assured I am _sure_ that you will find his and mine teaching styles quite different! Now then, how about we all settle down and unpack, hmm? I have prepared a number of Potions for you all to take a look at, purely out of interest nothing more, but I figured it would be a good way to test where we all stand on the subject!"

Daphne automatically moved away from everyone, which wasn't difficult as everyone had the same idea to stick to their house groups. The Hufflepuff boy joined the Gryffindors at their table, the Ravenclaws sat across from them and Pansy and Draco sat at the desk furthest from the front. As Daphne began unpacking her bookbag, Dominique joined her at her table.

"Can I sit with 'ere?"

She chewed the inside of her lip in hesitation. She was hardly in the mood for making new friends, but she was also not about to be rude to the new girl. This was an expected part of her Prefect duties.

Daphne nodded, but said nothing further. Dominique dropped into the seat beside her and began unpacking her bookbag, just as the new Professor took his place at the front of the classroom.

"Right then, these are the kind of thing you ought to be able to identify by now if you're taking a N.E.W.T.S class. Even if you can't make 'em, you'll definitely have heard of them! Anyone care to tell me what this one is?"

He indicated to three cauldron's he had set out before him, and then pointed to the furthermost one. It looked simply like boiling water, but Daphne had been eyeing it up since she entered the room. Her hand was the first in the air, followed closely by Grangers and third by Pansy.

"You! Miss.. er…"

"Greengrass."

"Ahhh…" Professor Slughorn's face softened as though the name was familiar to him, "My, my, you must be Benedict and Moira's daughter, aren't you?"

"I am."

He smiled again and clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Now er, yes my dear, what was your answer?"

She did her best to push the Professors unusual fascination with her namesake to the back of her mind, and answered in her most professional tongue.

"Veritaserum. It is odourless, colourless, and almost completely undetectable by human senses. It forces the drinker to answer the truth to any question given to them. And its use is also _banned_ by all, except official Ministry personal."

If she had been sitting any closer to them, her classmates might have gotten a glimpse of the scowl she sent at Pansy during that last sentence.

"Very good, very good!" said the Professor happily.

He then turned to the next potion and asked the class to identify it, but his exact wording was cut off by Dominique whispering to her again.

"Why do you have plasterz? Did you injure yourself?"

She snatched her sleeve and pulled it down.

It must have fallen down her arm when she raised it; she would seriously have to monitor her movement from now on. To think what would have happened if she'd not been wearing the bandage at that moment.

"Sword accident."

"You do sword fighting?"

_"Not anymore."_

When it was clear she wasn't willing to talk anymore on the matter, Dominique deflated a little, and returned her attention to the Professors bumblings.

Daphne turned her attention away from the Professor for no more than a split second, and simply to write the date at the top of her textbook, but that split second was apparently all it took.

"Ah, Harry my boy! I was beginning to worry! Brought someone with us, I see!"

She didn't even have to look.

Her eyes snapped shut and her teeth grinded together. She had her fingers crossed that they wouldn't be sharing any lessons, but she knew that reality was not that kind to her.

Looking up, she saw Harry and Weasley stood formlessly in the doorway, looking awkward in their own skin. Thankfully, Harry hadn't appeared to have noticed her yet, so she scooted herself an inch behind Dominique in attempt to keep it that way.

"Ron Weasley, sir!" Weasley introduced himself. "But I'm dead awful at Potions. A menace, actually, so I'm probably just going to-"

"Nonsense! We'll sort you out! Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine!" he ushered them into the room. "Go on, get your books out."

"Sorry sir, I haven't actually got my book yet. Nor has Ron."

Draco rolled his eyes, Daphne spotted, but he thankfully said nothing.

"Ahh not to worry, just grab one from the cupboards! Now! As I was saying, I have prepared some concoctions this morning. Who wants to reveal to me the identity of the second one?"

Harry's entrance had thrown her off enough that her hand was now second in the air after Grangers.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Granger, sir. That is Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. It's rumoured to smell differently to each person according to what attracts them. For example, I smell… freshly mowed grass, new parchment and… spearmint toothpaste."

Daphne tutted under her breath.

Her answer gave nothing of it's maker, nor it's legality use, Granger had only answered so she could get a whiff of the Potion. And, judging by the upset expression on her face, she had not received the smell she'd been hoping for. Professor Slughorn had also clearly noted her intrusion on the Potion as well, as he quickly made to seal himself between it and her and any of the other students trying to catch a whiff.

"Amortentia doesn't cause actual love, now, that would be impossible!" he clarified, earning him a scowl from Granger, "But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession. And for that reason, it is probably one of the most dangerous potion in this room."

He did a little finger-wave to try, presumably, add a level of spookiness to his words.

"Professor, you haven't told us about this one?" asked a Gryffindor, pointing small see-through vial sitting on the Professors desk.

The Professor then stiffened up and marched across the room, pointing at the third, smallest potion in the table. Daphne was sure he had not forgotten it, but had been waiting for the right time to be asked about it for dramatic effect.

"Oho, now then! What you see before you, ladies and gentlemen, is a curious little potion known as Felix Felicis, but it is more frequently known as Liquid Luck! Desperately tricky to make and disastrous should you get it wrong! One sip and you shall find that all of your endeavours succeed… at least, until the effects wear off."

The whole class seemed to stiffen up a little straighter. Even Daphne mused with the idea playfully.

Imagine it! A reality where she was actually capable of making good decisions in life!

"So! This is what I offer each of you today; one tiny vial of Liquid Luck to the student who in the hour that remains, manages to brew an Acceptable Draught of Living Death, the recipes of which can be found on page ten of your books," he then continued with a slight laugh, "I should point out, however, that only once did a student manage to brew a potion of sufficient quality to claim this prize. Nevertheless! Good luck to you all. Let the brewing commence!"

There was a scraping as students around her leapt to their feet, Dominique included, but Daphne found herself struggling to care. Today was essentially just a practice lesson, then. No grading, just a chance of getting a potion that if she really cared about, she could probably brew herself. She was seriously hoping for a topic that could keep her mind busy, but nonetheless, she too, got up to join in the work.

First lesson was not off to a great start, but she had Arithmancy later this evening and that was sure to get her brain working, especially considering nobody else she knew had taken the subject. She made her way to the cauldron table and began setting things out, and after that the rest of the lesson seemed to pass her much like a blur. Living Death was, admittedly, not her strongest potion, but she had the technique memorised enough to only have to reference her textbook a few times.

The only sound in the room was the loud bubbling of cauldrons as for once, everyone in class seemed dead-set on their work. The sheer amount of concentrated brain power in the room was probably enough to cut with a knife, even Draco was giving his potion his full, undivided attention for once - though that was probably because his only other alternative was talking to Pansy). Daphne finished mixing her ingredients by the time of the halfway point of the lesson, even with the time it would take for the potion to brew, she knew she'd probably be the first to finish.

She looked to her side and found Dominique still struggling on the early steps and her heart got the better of her.

"What are you struggling with?"

"Iz the tranzlation, am usually good at Potion making! I promise..." she laughed, handing Daphne her book.

"Have you added the Asphodel root?"

"Oui."

"Then you need to stir it counter clockwise."

"Counter cockwise?" she repeated.

Daphne chewed the inside of her mouth for a moment.

_"...dans le sens antihoraire."_

Dominique gauged in realisation and then set about laughing at herself.

"Ohhh, okay, _merci_!"

Daphne, impressed with herself, turned back to her potion and began the stirring process.

"Helping your fellow classmates out are we, Miss Greengrass? Thatta girl, doing your house proud! Oh, and might I add, congratulations on the Prefect position!"

Daphne looked up; the new Professor had come examine her work.

"It's a pleasure to serve my house, Professor Slughorn," she said the right thing.

Professor Slughorn gave a belly laugh and patted her on the shoulder.

"That's the spirit! Oh and don't be so formal, _Professor_ Slughorn was my father! You can call me Horace!"

Daphne forced an unease smile, nodding her head politely.

"Thank you, _Horace_... You can call me Daphne, also."

"That I will, my dear, that I will!" he cheered.

She smiled again, this time it was a genuine one. She couldn't quite tell if this man was as much of a dimwitted oaf as he appeared, or just extremely good at first impressions. Either way, she found his smile infectious.

The Professor waddled off, leaving Daphne in good spirits for a good part of her lesson. She finished up her brewing and only needed to help Dominique a few more times before the girl got the hang of things. There was only ten minutes left of the lesson when Daphne was reminded that good things didn't have a habit of sticking around these days.

Sometime during the brewing process, Harry had clearly spotted that they were sharing the same class and she inevitably felt his familiar presence behind her.

"Daphne, can we-"

"Don't interrupt me while I'm working."

She didn't turn to face him, nor saw his face when she responded, but the fact nothing but silence came after was a good sign.

A few seconds later, Dominique reapproached her.

"Zhat were 'Arry Potter?"

"Probably."

"Why were you mean to 'im? Wazan' 'e zhe Hoggywarts champion?"

Daphne opened her mouth as if to answer, but then snapped it shut again.

Telling the truth of the situation was an option that occurred to her, but then again, she already had Tracey nagging her about her poor decision making. One more person in the dark absolutely couldn't hurt.

"We are not fond of one another."

"Then why iz he tryin' to talk to you?"

"Dominique, can you _please_ just -"

She was only just able to catch herself from snapping at the girl.

She was already exerting an inordinate amount of patience on her that other classmates did not get the luxury of, asking about Harry was the last straw. But, that did not change the fact she hadn't done anything wrong and was probably just eager to make new friends. As near as Daphne could tell the girl was actually a lot more intelligent than she was coming across, it was adjusting to the different language that was throwing her off.

"Just, please get on with the lesson?" she started again, calmer. "I really would like to win the Felix Felicis."

"Right, 'o course. We can chat later."

Dominique was definitely not as eager as she was a second ago, but she pushed the thought of her aside as she set about the last stage of her potion.

Chopping the ingredients up, she found herself progressively getting rougher and rougher with her motions.

She didn't know why Harry was making her angry so easy. No, scratch that, she knew it wasn't _him_ making her angry.

It was their situation. All the feelings she had towards him were still there - though she did her best at ignoring them - but now there was a seething anger overpowering it all. She had all summer to come to terms with having to break up with him, but only when around him did her frustration bubble to the surface.

She was annoyed at the world, not him. He had done nothing wrong. He was just his usual, kind, caring self. He only wanted the best for her and for her to be happy. And she wanted to be with him... wanted to be with him _way_ more than she cared about stupid timetables or making daddy proud. Life had dealt her a shit hand and now she was expected to make the most out of it.

"You are goin' ta break zhe knife!"

Daphne slammed the blade down onto the table, causing Dominique to shy away from her.

She was practically seething.

Three words.

All it had taken was three words from him and now her lesson was ruined. Prefect, the new Professor, Dominique, the Liquid Luck... none of it mattered anymore. They might as well not even have been real.

She was fooling herself if she ever truly thought her life was back to being the way it used to be. Preoccupying her mind with what classes she was going to take, who she would be working with, what career she wanted… she didn't care about any of it, not really. It was all just attempts to run from her problems, just as she always did.

Daphne turned her back on the incomplete potion and closed her eyes.

Term was off to a _great_ start.


	5. Problem Child

"I just need help."

"Well - what do Ron and Hermione say about all this?" asked the fiery face of Sirius Black.

"That's it! I don't see them enough to actually talk to them... They're so busy being Prefects I barely get to speak to them outside of lesson time."

"Come now, Harry, surely you have actually spoken to them about it? Let them know what this means to you? I'm sure if they knew how important this was to you they'd listen."

Harry pulled his hands over his face with a sigh.

"I know it's not their fault, I'm not blaming them... I'm just left alone with my own thoughts, I don't even know if what I'm talking about sounds mental or not anymore!"

With Ron and Hermione chosen as the new Gryffindor Prefects, their newly added responsibilities meant their absence was a noticeable one in the week that came, and combined with the groups new timetable that split them up almost entirely for the majority of their lessons, meant this term had been a lonely one thus far. Hermione, on one of the occasions they'd actually had a class together, suggested Harry used his new found free time to throw himself into his work, for once he was actually willing to listen to her.

He only had two more years at Hogwarts before graduating to begin his Auror training, to say he hadn't been distracted in the slightest in the years past was definitely an understatement.

After all, it wasn't like he had a girlfriend to keep him distracted anymore. They were a week into the new term now and the most he had gotten a chance to speak to Daphne was the night by the castle's entrance. He was getting progressively more frustrated with her by the day, never quite enough to make him mad, or to make him wish to give up his pursuit all together, but enough for his mood to be spoiled by the mention of her.

She was deliberately going out of her way to be rude and cold towards him. This was the same girl who last year was willing to risk her school and her home life just for the chance to tell him how much he meant to her. What the hell had happened over the holidays to make her change her mind so suddenly? None of her behaviour made sense, he was beginning to doubt if it ever truly did at any point of knowing her.

"And your idea is…?"

"That it's something to do with Malfoy."

Sirius's face was difficult to read through the flames, but he knew what that silence meant.

"I don't see what else it could be," he pushed, regardless. "I _know_ what I meant to her, Sirius. I know what the time we spent together meant. She isn't the type to just cut people off. Or not me, anyway. She's being forced into it, and Malfoy is definitely up to something."

"I see. And, probably a daft question, but - are you _sure_ she hasn't just lost interest?"

Harry stared at him.

"Oh don't look at me like that! James was the jealous type is all, I'm not accusing you of anything... I just think it was worth noting."

"I'm _not_ the jealous type..." he sighed internally. "Something is going on, I know it is."

"Right, well, listen to me, Harry. Your NEWT level examinations shouldn't be taken lightly. Even I knew when to settle down and take my school work seriously… no pun intended," he added with a hearty laugh. "Don't let whatever may or may not be going on distract you from what's important. Women come and go, but what goes down in your last two years are going to stick with you for the rest of your life. Definitely not worth throwing away for a bloody shag."

Harry let out a splutter and a loud cough, his face instantly turning the same shade as the Weasley's hair.

"It's not like that!" he stressed in a hissing whisper, suddenly very much aware of the common room around him. "We don't… we're not like… we haven't… I don't even…"

He struggled with his words, Sirius let loose a deranged cackle.

"Merlin's Beard, you're pulling the exact same face Remus used to!" his god-father cheered.

Harry blew out a puff of air, trying to hold his chest high despite his flushing cheeks.

"So, what are you telling me? That I should just do _nothing_?"

"Ohhh, Harry…" Sirius simmered down. "Sirius Black telling Harry Potter to do _nothing_ would be like a pyromaniac telling a dragon not to start a fire! If you're sure with yourself, follow it up! I trust you to do so carefully, and the Order is here for whatever you may find. I'm just saying, don't let your pursuit of a girl take over your education... You've got to keep balance in mind. I've made that mistake far too many times and it was never worth it."

Although the conversation with Sirius gave him everything he needed to hear, it did nothing to give him the words he'd wanted to hear.

He _wanted_ to hear he wasn't overthinking things. He wanted to hear that his suspicions actually made sense. He wanted to hear that his girlfriend hadn't abandoned him. If he couldn't get answers, then he at least wanted closure on the matter.

Harry debated his options. He couldn't just waltz up and approach her, not without getting the same reaction from he'd received in their recent Potions lesson, and he wasn't willing to push more aggressively than that. His letters had gone ignored over the holidays and he doubted that writing now would result in anything different. That left, as far as he could figure out, his only other choice was trying to set up some scenario where the two of them ended up isolated together. Maybe something like an enchanted broom cupboard, one that wouldn't let either of them out until they worked things through? Or the Room of Requirement, that place in its natural form was like a maze, they'd definitely have to work together to find their way out of that? Or the Forbidden Forest, if he could frame it so that they both had detention at the same time...

It was at this point in his speculation that he finally he realised just how far he'd dropped from reality.

Distracting his mind, Harry switched to overhearing Seamus and Dean bicker about their most reason Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Normally he'd would jump at the opportunity to bitch about Snape, but he was feeling in an incredibly non-confrontational mood right now.

He picked up his now stone-cold cup of tea, his mind struggling to focus on one clear subject.

Was he being overbearing? A stalker? His girlfriend broke up with him and now his thoughts were clogged with the image of her and another man… And no, _not_ in that way. He trusted her - whether or not that's a smart decision remained to be seen - but nonetheless, he did. So should he just let no mean no and respect her decision like the adult she was? Should he push his feelings on the matter aside and just accept the shit card he'd been dealt?

Harry physically shook his head to drag his thoughts away. No, he couldn't afford to start doubting himself now. He and her had come this far, put so much effort in and lost so much already. If he had to push that little further so they could be happy, that's exactly what he would do. He had earned the right to be happy, and so had she. He'd continue his pursuit of her, and he'd find out exactly what Malfoy was up to. Even if he had to do it alone.

* * *

Severus never took Daphne Greengrass for a problem child, but by Merlin's name, she was living up to recent accusations.

There was once a time he considered her to be his favourite, most untroublesome student and the odd thing was, that time wasn't even too long ago. In just under a year she had pulled every string he had through lies, deceit, and general trouble-makingness. The two sat opposite each other right now in his new Defence Against the Dark Arts office, which had been reluctantly stripped of Umbridge's pink over-coating, but now replaced with a tense silence spread across the room.

"Congratulations on the Prefect spot. You've earned it."

The girl remained cold in her seat. She had a vein bulging from the side of her neck, her eyebrows sharp in the centre of her face. She'd been glaring at him like this for the past twenty minutes. His patience was wearing thin. She had barely moved or spoke since entering, Snape had heard vaguely of her classmates corridor-bound nickname, but now he was experiencing full force why she'd earned it. Fortunately, she had another thing coming if she thought he would allow himself to be intimidated by a little girl.

"And I see you've met Dominique Flamel. Madame Maxime thinks very highly of her. You'll do well to keep her out of trouble."

He watched her as she gave polite, most subtle nod possible, then immediately went back to glaring a hole through him.

Severus sighed in fatigued annoyance.

"What happened between you and Harry Potter?"

"We broke up."

Greengrass was snatched from her trance and sagged her shoulders, breathing heavy.

She was decently good at fighting off his Legilimency normally, but now she had mastered the art of redirecting it completely. Probably explains why she was able to survive meeting The Dark Lord. Any attempt for him to pry into her mind just turned into a hostile game of tug-and-war between the two, which he refused to be demeaned by.

If she was good enough to keep him out, he considered, she might actually have a chance at surviving on her own in this world. Her father had certainty taught her well. But that would do neither her nor him any favours while he was on a rare mission of mercy.

"I will ask you again... What happened?"

"He left me."

"Lies..."

Severus' face broke into a nasty scowl as he was unable to contain his irritation any longer.

"What is it with children your age so _eager_ to jump into the fire pit?" he spat. "Does death have a level of fascination to you? Because you will surely be examining it up close soon!"

Greengrass looked like she'd just received a slap to the face, and shot back at him with equal prowess.

"I have no desire to die anytime soon, Professor Snape," she said coldly.

"The Dark Lord may disagree with that, Miss Greengrass!"

She cocked her head to the side, staring back at him like a mother scolding her child.

"You can _tell_ The Dark Lord that I failed the mission he set for me. It was very tragic, but Harry Potter left me at the start of this year and - despite attempts at reconciling our relationship - I believe it is gone forever. He blames me for the attack at the Department of Mysteries and has accused me of being a Death Eater spy."

Her words came out in a well-rehearsed, almost robotic manner.

"The mark on my arm probably isn't doing a good job at convincing him otherwise, _either_."

His expression deepened on her remark.

He could see the bandages peaking through the end of her sleeve. It should have healed by now, meaning they were probably there as a rudimentary attempt at hiding her tattoo. He'd argued against her being blooded at such a young age, but The Dark Lord had been absolutely resolute on it. He tried convincing him that her mission would be easier without it, that it would just be incriminating her should she be caught, but he was determined to see her prove her devotion.

In reality, forcing a child to take the mark, especially against her will, was mortifying and savage act, which was exactly the reason Severus suspected he wanted it done. The Dark Lord knew she was terrified of the Death Eaters and wanted to degrade her by making her one of them.

"If you believe that answer will be satisfactory to the Death Eaters -" he swallowed to clear his tongue "- then you have several things coming. Do you _know_ what happens to people who fail The Dark Lord?"

"They teach Potions at Hogwarts for fourteen years?"

With every fibre of his being, Severus resisted the impulse to throw his shoe at the girl.

"They _suffer_..." he seethed through his clenched teeth. "They suffer a fate that leaves most begging for death and those are the _lucky_ ones. Now, if even I don't believe your story - that Potter conveniently severed all ties with you the second term began - tell me, exactly, how you expect The Dark Lord will?"

"He will believe me because_ that's_ what happened. If The Dark Lord wishes to punish me for that, I will happily submit myself to it. I did fail him. My father will protect me if worst comes to worst, he is one of The Dark Lord's most loyal servants and his word comes in good favour."

"Your father didn't do a good job at protecting you when he beat you _like a mutt_ the first time that you helped Harry Potter! And that will be considered a mercy over what you will experience when The Dark Lord get his hands on you!"

That seemed to have finally put an end to the girls smart mouth. Whether she had ran out of pre-prepared things to say or she had just finally lost her argument, he couldn't tell. She didn't say anything, nor make any obvious movement, but the minute sagging of her face did not go unnoticed by him.

"You will find no allies with the Death Eaters, only pain and suffering," he continued, quickly. "Your father is lost to their cause. The one with the power to help you now is me… and you would be wise to accept that help. You and Draco are both in more danger than your childish minds seem to realise..."

He was offering her as much salvation as would be available to her, but she was too caught up in her own sanctimonious beliefs to see him as anything other than another obstacle. There was so much pent up aggression inside of her, none of it being directed to the right cause. He was the last name on the very long list of people that she should be rebelling against, but his words would do nothing to convince her of that. Anything he could say would just being spat back in his face, regardless of its sincerity.

She was as naive as she was self-righteous, Severus mused, and it was going to get her killed if he didn't put a stop to it.

"_Listen_ to me; your failure will not go unpunished. Whatever the consequences are that you are expecting to be content with, I warn you not to underestimate the ruthlessness of The Dark Lord... Furthermore, need I remind you that it was_ I_ whose responsibility he placed over you? Your failure means my failure, I will not have my good position compromised by some self-entitled brat! If you have even half of a decent brain on your shoulders, you will work with me on what comes next... or you will be at Death Eaters mercy, and as I'm sure you'll come to find, those two are not often associated with one another."

Such long-winded explanations felt unnatural leaving his mouth outside the constraints of a classroom, but it seemed to have done it's job.

Greengrass stared back at him miserably.

Her mental restraints were still up, he sensed, but there was now more messy emotion to it. She looked to be contemplating his words, he slently egged her towards the correct decision.

"Nothing else smart to say?"

"I know what you're trying to do, Professor Snape..." Greengrass hesitated, "... but I don't need nor want help. I _have_ to handle this on my own."

He was done. There was a limit to how far he would go out for another person and she had well and truly pushed him past it. He was done jumping through hoops to try and keep her safe when she was only making it more difficult for herself. She had spat the help that he had no obligation to give her right back in his face for the last time.

"Spoken like a true Death Eater. Get out of my office."

Greengrass reluctantly obeyed, rushed quickly out of her seat and seconds later he was alone.

Severus felt severely out of his depth dealing with her.

The second he opened his mouth he knew was going to regret kicking her out. She was not a problem that he could ignore, nor afford to give up on. Malfoy, he was different, he was a coward, but his heart was in the cause. Greengrass wanted nothing to do with the war, but that wasn't enough anymore. Her mere existence threatened to be a game changer on both sides. He had to be patient with her, being short tempered and hostile would just further the divide that he needed so desperately to patch up.

He would be talking to Dumbledore tonight. Even being unable to see into the girls mind, there wasn't a doubt in him that her heart wasn't truly into it. She may have taken the Dark Mark - she might even genuinely believe in the cause - but she did not have the heart of a killer.

Which just begged the question, what did The Dark Lord want with her? He would have seen she was very obviously still in love with the Potter boy even easier than he had. Why give her a task that she was so obviously going to fail? Was The Dark Lord planning to use her weakness against her? Or was she mere bait for Potter?

The more he pondered the situation, the less he liked the possibilities he came up with.


	6. The Quidditch Captain

The one thing he'd been able to take out of his conversation with Sirius was he definitely needed some escapism. Quidditch was good at that, and as it just so happened, this was the year he'd found himself as the Captain of the Gryffindor team.

It hadn't stopped drizzling the entire morning and the sky above them reflected that. It was a wet and miserable day. Of course the weather would turn sour the day of the tryout trials, as if Harry didn't already have his mind preoccupied stressing about that, now he also had to worry about not freezing to death.

"We've got a group of absolute idiots," Ginny whispered to him.

Ginny was proving herself a valuable ally with the tryouts. She'd already broken down the schedule into different sections and done a lot of the other ugly organising Harry hadn't been looking forward to. She'd definitely done a lot of maturing recently. Their planning for team trials was as much time the two spent together since the Chamber of Secrets, and they were actually getting along better than either side expected.

"Right!" Harry yelled. "So, this morning I'm going to be putting you all through some drills just to test your strengths. Come on, quiet, please!"

He doubted anyone could actually hear what he was saying over the rain and wind. The crowd ahead of him was rowdy, composed of Gryffindors of all ages, with Ron stood awkwardly at its centre. His nerves were just about the only thing keeping him alive and moving right now.

"SHUT IT!" Ginny shouted from the side, snapping everyone's attention in her direction.

If only she'd been that forthcoming when they were in the chamber - things might have turned out differently.

"Thanks - " Harry swallowed "- Right, now then, remember just because you made the team last year it does not guarantee you a spot this year. Is that clear?"

As expected, the trials took up most of Harry's morning, and the weather did not improve one bit.

It seemed like half of the entire Gryffindor House had turned up, from first-years nervously clutching their brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest of the group. They decided to start a basic, mundane test would be asking all applicants to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. It was a good idea as it turned out; he soon found out at least ten people auditioning had evidently never even flown a broom before. One particular group of ten was comprised of the silliest girls Harry had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching each other. Romilda Vane was among them, she was the only one who actually made an effort to listen and obey his commands, which he was thankful for.

After two hours of shouting himself hoarse, so much rain that his face now felt numb, multiple complaints and several tantrums later - one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth - Harry found his team mates; Katie Bell, a safe choice from years previous, and new comers Demelza Robins and Nadia Khanna. He was pleased with his choices, that was until Seamus decided Sam had cheated and tried to put him in the Hospital Wing. Ginny, again, shut them down for him.

Harry deliberately left the trail of the Keepers until last, hoping for an emptier stadium and less pressure on Ron. Unfortunately his plan backfired, and despite the weather, all the rejected players had joined the crowd in the stands, creating an entire make-shift audience of on-lookers. Harry glanced over to him, who he was fully aware was nervous, and found his guilt matched by the pale shade of green the Weasley's skin had turned.

Surprisingly though, as the rest of the day played out, Ron took everyone by storm. He scored the final extra save over McLaggen, and it had secured him a spot on the team.

It would be different playing Quidditch with Ron, as opposed to just having him sitting on the sidelines, but if it made more time for he and Harry to see each other, then he couldn't go wrong with it.

They were all looking forward to getting back to the common room and celebrating. Even through all his padding, Harry was soaked to his core, he could only imagine what Ron was going through with the added stress on top of that. All he could envision now was that warm fireplace, a handful of butterbeers and the rest of the night flying by in a laughter-coated blur. It would be their first proper time to sit down and have a catch up since term started, which was almost four weeks ago now.

He'd also maybe, finally get a chance to bring up to them his Daphne problem, and this time word his argument better way than he had on the train.

The stadium drained out, and Ron and Hermione left to wait for him under the cover of the tent. He and Ginny were almost done packing away all the equipment they used today. The rest of his night was looking hopeful, but as always, all good things must come to an end.

"Not too late am I?"

Just as he and Ginny had finished securing the last of everything for transport back inside - Tracey Davis, of all people - appeared behind them, decked out head-to-toe in Slytherin Quidditch gear. Before Harry even opened his mouth, he could already feel his hopes of a relaxed evening slipping away from him.

"What are you doing?"

"Tryouts go till four, right? Here I am!"

"This is for the _Gryffindor_ team," Ginny answered for him. "You'll have to talk to Malfoy, he's head of the Slytherin team. We have no say over their team."

"I'm not tryin' to join _you_ lot," Tracey snickered obnoxiously, "... and trails are off. Draco's dropped from the team, it's... frankly, all kind of a mess over there right now."

"Sorry, but that's nothing to do with u-"

"Malfoy's off the team?" Harry interjected, shouting over the rain.

"S'what I said. Now come on, you gonna turn down someone who came all this way in _this_ weather to get trained by you, just 'cause they're in the wrong house?" Tracey scoffed loudly. "Didn't take you lot for the elitist type!"

Ginny glare's matched hers, but just as she opened her mouth to say something, Harry found himself jumping to her side.

"Don't. It's okay. You go back to the castle. Tell Ron and Hermione I'm gonna be late up."

Ginny moved to side of him, trying to seal their conversation from Slytherin ears, but the wind was that strong it likely wouldn't have mattered anyway.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone with her?"

Harry cracked his mouth and produced a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a cough.

"She's not dangerous. You go. Honestly, it's fine. You did good today."

Ginny looked hesitant, before her mouth perked into a smile and she reluctantly stood down. She packed up the remaining group equipment for him, and after leaving Harry the bare minimum he would need for one-on-one training, began the long walk off the pitch.

He looked Tracey up and down, who was staring back at him with predatory eyes.

"Right," he sighed. "You ever rode a broom before?"

The Slytherin gave him cat-like smirk.

"Please, you're lookin' at the best player in Slytherin!"

In the distance, thunder rumbled across the countryside. The weather was getting worse, if Harry could believe it or not. He wouldn't have had such a problem training Tracey if she'd just turned up at the same time everyone else, but instead he'd be spending his evening flying around in a thunderstorm, rather than relaxing with a plate of Cauldron Cakes in the bath.

"Yet… you've never been on the team before?"

"And play with Draco and his lot?" she shot back in that same obnoxious laugh.

"Are they not on the team this year?"

Tracey shook her head, and moved closer to him to speak more clearly. Harry hesitated to move away from her and stood his ground.

"Draco isn't. Crabbe and Goyle made the cut, but they're tolerable without him."

"Why didn't Malfoy make it?"

Tracey shrugged. She was being surprisingly nonchalant about the whole situation, appearing completely oblivious to Harry's obviously annoyed tone and the harsh weather closing in around them. Whether or not this was an act or not, he couldn't quite figure out.

"Just didn't turn up for trials," she explained. "Whole thing was a mess, nobody knew who was in charge. Snape postponed the whole thing for a week and he's having the final say on who gets what position."

Harry nodded in understanding. Malfoy loved Quidditch, even though his father bought his way onto the team, it was his skill that allowed him to stay. If Malfoy was suddenly done with the sport, that was another thing to add onto his growing suspicions list.

"What position are you hoping to get?" he now had to use shouting as his default voice to be heard over the rain.

"Seeker, obviously!"

Harry considered the girl for a second, giving her a glance up and down. She wasn't particularly built for Quidditch nor did her ditsy energy give any indication of how she'd be on a broom.

"Strike me more as a Chaser."

"Why don't you get on your broom and we'll find out?"

A loose chuckle escaped from his throat, he doubted she heard it.

He gestured for her to follow him. The wind was so strong now that they staggered sideways walking into the centre of the pitch. Harry pulled his foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over his Firebolt.

"You'll wanna take hat off, then," he said, taking a pair of golden-red goggles out of his pocket and slipping them over his head. "You'll lose it in the wind."

She followed his actions, commanded the remaining broom off the ground and snatched it with both hands, taking on a launch pose. She looked back at him expectantly.

"Hat stays... Better yet, if you beat me, I'll let you take it off me…"

He wasn't sure, but he swore he caught her wink with that last line. He coughed a tickle out of his throat.

"What do you _actually_ want training with?" he pushed. "Don't know why the _best_ player in her house would come just to relearn the basics? And if you're just here for a place on the team, already said we can't help you."

"How about a race?" she asked excitedly.

He itched to roll his eyes.

"If you're just here because you want to mess around on a broom - I've really got better things to be…"

"I wanna be a Seeker, you're a Seeker!" Tracey yelled over the rain. "If I can beat you, then I have a pretty good chance of getting in!"

Harry shook his head. His patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Being a Seeker is about more than being fast," he shot back, "You have to be patient. You have to be able to react at a moment's notice. Being quicker than everyone else is only part of it, you're not just going as fast as you can, you're trying to find something - trying to hunt."

Tracey rose off the ground next to him.

"Then hunt me, Harry Potter!"

There was a pop and she shot into the sky, covering him in the splash back from the rain.

Begrudgingly, he rose into the sky after her. He really wasn't interested in whatever game she was trying to play. It was obvious she wasn't just here for training, but he couldn't decipher any intentions beyond that. As it stood, she was still his best chance at figuring out what was going on with Daphne. If he and her were truly over, which he was adamant they weren't, he doubted her best mate would be trying to put the moves on him already. Then again, she was in Slytherin.

He held his Firebolt steady as he rose into the sky, squinting through the rain. He ducked low and took off in the direction Tracey had departed. Within seconds he was, somehow, soaked through even more, and hardly able to make out the Quidditch stands, never mind her. The sky was getting darker and it wasn't due to their lateness in the year.

It didn't take him long to lose his orientation, the weather had gone from a depressing drizzle to a full-blown storm, it was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. Twice in his soaring he nearly collided with the scoring hoops, mistaking their figure for his target.

As the first flash of lightning came, Harry spotted movement from the corner of his eye. If it had been a second later he'd have been none the wiser, but it had happened at just the right time for him to spot Tracey on her broom making a dive over the stands and into the castle grounds.

Something awoke suddenly inside him, the rain was no longer as much of a bother. That small glimpse was all he needed for a surge of adrenaline to flush his system. The game was now on. He was still numb from the cold and wetter than he'd been in his entire life, but now he had a mind of determination. He soared towards her. She must have seen him coming, as the spot he'd seen her at was vacated when he arrived, but it didn't matter, and he shot through it regardless. He knew what those Hogwarts-issued brooms were like, at the speed she was going she'd have had no time to turn abruptly, which left him with a about a hundred feet to spot her again.

As he crossed over the stands, low and behold, he picked up on a faint green-and-silver figure moving quickly along the grass, speeding towards the lake. Harry headed straight for the ground, tightening himself up against his broom as much as he could. His face was stinging from the rain, even his magical-enchanted goggles were doing him no favour in this visibility. Nevertheless seconds later he was trailing only feet behind her. She then either slowed, or he gained on her again, because now the back of her robes were nipping harshly at his face. There was a blurred streak of colour and motion and she pulled back suddenly, leaving Harry zooming across the castle grounds on his own.

His head snapped up, trying to pin-point her in the air, and caught her taking flight towards the castle. She was good at her manoeuvring, definitely. His Firebolt was at least ten times quicker than her broom, but she was doing a decent job at avoiding him thus far, though admittedly, she was probably aided by the weather.

But she would have to try a lot harder if she thought she could shake him that easily.

He waited for his opportunity and took it when it came. He pulled back on his broom and aimed in her direction, gave himself a second to brace, and was then catapulted forward with incredible force. Tearing upwards through the air beside her, he sent her spiralling off sideways, fighting for control of her broom. He left the girl struggling in his dust, then with a flourishing turn, doubled back on her.

"Gotta try harder than that!" he shouted.

She grinned back at him with cheer on her face.

"Lucky! Bet you can't do that twice!"

He laughed extra loud so that she could hear him over the wind.

"I'll give you a head start then!"

He said that to taunt her, but apparently she didn't need to be told twice. She dropped into a high-speed descent, Harry could hear the distant sound of what he understood to be her laughter.

Honouring his word, he remained hanging in the air a moment longer before racing off after her. By the time he caught her up she had reached the castle and was weaving in and around it's towers and bridges. Technically they weren't allowed to fly in castle airspace, but there was considerably more cover from the elements here than back on the pitch, the dark sky meant it was practically impossible for them to be spotted by the ground, so Harry decided to conveniently forget that rule this one time.

He ducked again, pushing himself forward, manoeuvring around the columns and up a set of stone steps to catch up to her up. His goggles were faring better now that he had the castle between him and the storm. Tracey had deliberately moved their chase here because she knew she didn't stand a chance against him in open air; he respected that decision.

He only just made it over the rooftop as he spied her disappear around the next corner of the castle. They moved to circling each other around the Astronomy tower, which turned into a game of cat and mouse. He hung back, hoping to get her on her second trip round, but she apparently expected to do just that, and suddenly, somehow, she was miles away. He caught a glimpse of her backside disappearing behind the Divination tower.

He hurried to catch up to her, and again, she'd vanished from the scene.

Though his broom was quicker than hers, Tracey clearly knew where she was going, he didn't. She was weaving in and out of the buildings, taking unexpected turns and sudden drops. He didn't put it past her to have planned out a predetermined path deliberately so she could disorientate him, thinking about it. Another far off glimpse and he was off again. This time he did his best to tail her, but every surprise turn or barrel roll continued putting distance between them. Eventually he got around a corner and she was gone all together.

Out of nowhere, there were feathers.

He'd been shooting forward at such a force he'd almost collided with a random, out of place goose that had decided to fly by at that moment, scaring the life out of him.

He slowed, looking around wildly. Brushing his ruined fringe from his eyes, he peered frantically at every crevasse, nook and cranny and trench he could spot nearby. The goose had vanished as quick as it had appeared.

_"GOT YA!"_

With the force of a thousand enraged Dudley's, a hand made contact with his rear-end. It threw off his broom balance and as he span around mid-air to control it, a cackling laughter fills his ears.

"One-all, Potter! Let's make the next one count!"

"I thought I was chasing YOU!" he shouted blindly into the darkness.

She took off again and with a jolt of adrenaline, he grabbed his broom handle and pelted after her. Despite his tone, and the now-stinging handprint on his bottom, he couldn't deny he was having a good time. She was actually giving him a run for his money - this girl was a natural born seeker.

The rain was loud in his ears, there was a second lightning strike, followed closely by raging thunder. She was clear in his sights, right ahead of him and they just so happened to be passing through an open area between towers. She had nowhere to hide, now was his chance. He flattened himself against this broom. This was the endgame, he was about to show this Slytherin-wannabe who was the Seeker.

Then, rather suddenly, everything was brown.

Harry's mind was racing so quickly it took him a second to distinguish what had happened. Then, snapping back into it, he clawed at his face and dragged Tracey's soaking wet beanie from his goggles. He told her she was going to lose that in the wind, now look, he was careening towards a rooftop.

His heart lodged itself in his throat and held his breath, dragging his broom up at the sharpest angle possible. He growled as he threw himself flat against his Firebolt, willing it to make the turn in time. The quick jolt upwards sent a tingling feeling dancing around his head, which he was then snapped sharply out of when he knees began grazing the rooftop.

He dragged himself free of his near-miss encounter. The fabric on his knees was shredded and there was now a harsh pounding going on somewhere behind his eyes. In five years of playing Quidditch, that was the first time he'd ever given himself whiplash like that. It took him a few seconds of heavy blinking before he was able to properly acknowledge his surroundings. Someone - Tracey, he figured - had pulled up ahead of him and was shouting back if he was alright. He did his best to answer, but quickly turned his attention back to the Quidditch Pitch.

Moments later, they both splashed down into the mud. Mercifully the rain had calmed now. That or maybe his body had just gotten used to the battering and he didn't feel it as much anymore. If things had calmed down, she didn't seem to get the memo.

"Good game, man!" she cheered, slapping him on the back. "You caught my lucky hat!"

Harry mumbled something. His headache didn't stop their hands from meeting in the middle with a manly handshake. He was about to congratulate her on a race well played, maybe even compliment her flying skills, when his attention suddenly wavered.

Tracey had very unusual hair.

Maybe it was just the fact he'd never seen it before and was expecting something different, but it seemed quite unlike any hairstyle he had imagined. Most of her hair was brown, except for a messy blonde patch in the centre of her fringe. If they were in any better visibility he might have been able to tell if the yellow splodge was natural or just the result of a bad dying accident. Then again, he also didn't cross out the involvement of magic.

She tugged her hat from his limp hand and stretched it across her head, completely ignoring it's horrific texture and the squelching noises it made. He forgot about her strange hair almost instantly as the rush of what just happened finally caught up to him.

"That was incredible! I'm gonna have to get the team training early if they want to beat you. You could go for Captain if you wanted it!"

Tracey gave a hard laugh and punched his shoulder.

"I dunno about Captain..." she cracked her knuckles coldly, and then with a big smile added, "... I'm sick, don't get me wrong, but I'm no-good at leadin'."

He laughed out loud. He considered maybe he too harsh on his assuming with his attitude earlier. It wouldn't have been a massive leap of logic to say she deliberately turned up late so she could speak to him one-on-one, he didn't know what her intentions were beyond that, but at this point he had stopped caring altogether. His heart was warm with adrenaline and tingling with happiness. Considering this was his first time hanging around with Tracey that wasn't an anxiety-fueled mess, he actually surprised himself with how much fun he'd just had.

"You're better than half the lot I saw today. Shame you can't play for us."

Tracey dramatically snatched at her chest, mocking a heart-attack.

"I'm flattered!" she cried.

Apparently if they'd waited about twenty minutes he'd have been with a much better chance of winning their chase, as the wind was steadily dying down and the rain was clearing up. Harry sealed up the last few Quidditch supplies as the two continued their banter, and then brooms in-hand, they began the long trek back to the castle.

"You have to let me have a go on that Firebolt sometime!" she exclaimed, walking a few paces ahead of Harry.

He chuckled, nodding.

"It's probably a damn-sight quicker than a Cleansweep."

"This?" she held her broom up in disgust. "This is the schools! I've got a Siberian Arrow back in my dorm."

Harry's mouth fell agape. With the way she held herself and the general energy she gave off around school, he never imagined her owning such a posh and expensive broom.

"The bloody hell are you not doing with it out here?"

"It's just tryouts! I don't want to damage her, she's my baby!" she laughed. "We're not _all_ rich and famous, I had to save up for her!"

Harry chuckled merrily.

"The Firebolt was a _gift_, actually."

"Mmhmm. Bet so was that Nimbus Two Thousand and One that you _ruined_."

He winced.

"Well… actually…"

She snorted at him.

"Ohhh check you out with your rich relatives!"

"I thought all Slytherins were born into prestigious, up-their-own-arse families?"

"I come from a _Gryffindor_ family, actually, Potter," she shot back in a ridiculing tone. "And Daphne is awful at buyin' gifts if I don't literally write down what I want from her."

His eyes narrowed at her words.

Didn't she and Daphne have the same mum? Why wouldn't Daphne mention to him that her mum was in Gryffindor? He would make a note to ask her about that later… God knew whenever later would be, though.

A thought swiftly leapt to the forefront of his mind. He was having a good night, he didn't want to ruin it by overstepping his boundaries, but then again… He'd probably regret it if he didn't. What better opportunity was he going to get?

"I've always been particularly good at flyin'..." she eased out with a knowing snicker, "... some would say that I'm _quackin'_ at it."

"Do you know if there's something going on between Malfoy and Daphne, by chance?"

She paused, then guffawed loudly.

"Well _that_ came from nowhere..." she drawled out with a laugh, "Didn't take you for the jealous type."

"I'm not the jealous type."

Tracey gave a bemused long pause, as if she was trying to read his face.

"Then why're you askin'?"

His nose crinkled. He tried to scrounge up a good explanation, but found his mind drawing a blank.

"Cause I think Malfoy is up to something and I'm worried Daphne is involved."

He chewed hard on the inside of his cheek. That was a weak response and they both knew it.

"Gryffindors really don't believe in beatin' around the bush, do you?"

She was laughing at him.

Harry still felt justified in his reasoning, but that didn't help disguise the blush rushing to his cheeks.

"Potter… " she calmed down, shaking her head, "... whatever Daphne has going on, she's made it _very_ clear that it's none of my business. If anythin', I was actually hopin' to try and get somethin' out of _you_ about her."

With her words, everything clicked into place.

That was what this was all about, Tracey coming to him about Quidditch was her way of getting them alone together so she could get information from him. He would pat himself on the back for being suspicious of her intentions, if he hadn't had walked straight into it.

"Me?" he asked after a second.

Tracey swung her broom around lazily in front of her.

"You're the only other person she talks to... I don't get to see her that much in lessons anymore, she flat out avoids everyone durin' break. Figured if anyone knew what was goin' on with her, it'd be you."

Harry nodded wearily.

This was all news to him. Daphne not wanting to talk to him he could at least understand, but was she cutting herself off from other people too? She didn't exactly have that many friends to begin with. Tracey was the only person who he'd actually heard Daphne call her friend, so what did that mean? The more he pondered the possibilities, the less he liked the answers.

"Wish I could help, but... she broke up with me, actually. I haven't seen much of her, either."

Tracey took in a sharp in-hale of breath.

"Yeaaaah... I heard about that," she eased out. "Sorry."

A second hung over the two where neither spoke, and the squelching sound beneath their feet was very loud.

"She still likes you, for what it's worth."

Harry peaked his eyebrow.

"She does?"

"Mmhmm. It's obvious, but she's bein' stubborn about it. Always has been stubborn bitch, but this is different. I think your call that someone else is involved is a good shout."

"Someone _else_?"

She must have caught the distress in his tone and spluttered to correct herself.

"Not in that way!" she frantically waved her hands in dismissal.

Harry caught the rising lump of anxiety in his throat and swallowed it, relieved.

"I meant," she clarified, "I don't think she's being this way because she wants to be. Her dad or someone will be making her… Definitely not Draco though, those two hate each other."

Now this _wasn't_ news to him, but actually hearing someone say it was doing wonders for his confidence.

It was incredible; this one conversation with a background Slytherin had done him more reassurance than talking to his closest friends and god-father had done in a week.

"That's…" he said slowly, unsure where he was going, "... good to know."

They'd been walking quickly through the rain and reached the entrance to the castle before either of them had realised it. The sky had completely dried up now, and allowed them to linger by the great doors for a bit before going in.

"Daffy is… difficult at times," Tracey sighed heavily. "Flat out annoyin' and unreasonable at others. But she's worth it in the end. She's my best mate..."

She passed him back the borrowed broomstick and smiled at him.

"And as her, I guess, now _ex_-boyfriend… I don't mind tellin' you I'm worried about her. Keep an eye on her if you can, please."

Harry nodded.

He wanted to say something further, but his head was deep in considering her words and unable to provide anything beyond a sympathetic look. Tracey coughed loudly into her hand and gestured up at the looming doors above them.

"You're goin' up, right? Don't suppose you wanna smoke somethin' first?"

Harry laughed gaily, then awkwardly fell silent. He assumed at first she was joking, but the sober look on her face made it difficult to tell.

"Ahhh…" he scratched the back of his head, "I'll… take a raincheck on that. Lesson in the morning."

She gave him a dirty, but good-natured, scowl.

"Gryffindor Pussy. Good talk, though. See you 'round, Potter."

She gave him a lit jab on his shoulder. As she parted the doors to leave, he chucked a smile at her.

"I'll see you on the Quidditch pitch."

Her smile met his and the two parted ways, Tracey, deeper into the castle, Harry, up several flights of stairs.

His evening definitely hadn't gone how he planned it to, but it certainly left him with a lot to think about for the rest of the night.


	7. Snake in Le Gazon

"You're staring at him again."

Daphne snapped her eyes down to the revision sheet in front of her. To her left, Pansy cackled.

"You're such a slag," she whispered harshly. "Even _he_ doesn't want you anymore."

She pushed her nose further into her work. If Pansy was still glaring at her, she now couldn't tell.

"Something funny, Miss Parkinson?" Professor Snape's voice leaked over from the front of the classroom.

Pansy pulled herself up from her slouch and smiled.

"Nothing, Professor. Do carry on, please."

He arched an eyebrow.

"I'm glad I have _your_ permission to continue. Detention, my office, Saturday at four o'clock."

Pansy bit her lip and fell silent. As much as Daphne despised Professor Snape and everything he stood for, she found herself mentally thanking him. The Professor fell back into guiding his lesson and likewise, she found her eyes snaking their way back to the back of a certain Gryffindors head.

The first term was passing swiftly over Hogwarts, and to many it was a return to form. Not having anything big going on around the castle was a rare occasion; there was now nothing to look forward to besides more revision. To some this was boring, to others, it was a welcome break. Inside Hogwarts, the war never felt further away. For most, anyway.

Daphne stretched in her seat, flexing her back muscles.

She couldn't afford to go chasing the rabbit again in lesson. Professor Snape had imposed his personality on the room around them; it was gloomier than usual and lit only by candlelight, it suited her mood near perfectly. Professor Umbridge's lessons had let everyone's guard down, but his teachings were actually providing quite the challenge, and in a good way. It was true, Daphne's life wasn't in the best position right now, but no, that wasn't a valid excuse to fail her classes, she kept reminding herself.

"Those who progress to using magic without the aid of incantations gain an element of surprise in their castings. Not all wizards can do this, of course, it is a question of concentration and mind power which some simply… lack. You will now divide into pairs. One partner shall attempt to jinx the other without speaking, and the other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. You may begin when ready."

There was a shuffling of desks and Daphne moved to find a partner, making a beeline away from Pansy in the process.

Her automatic go-to had been Tracey, but then stopped in her tracks as she caught a glimpse of her rushing towards Dominique on the other side of the room. Hesitant, she scanned the crowd for anyone available, hoping the Old Gods would be merciful on her.

She ended up partnering with Longbottom, which all things considered, she didn't mind too much. She was already fairly okay at non-verbal spells - again another advantage her upbringing gave her over her classmates - though she had yet to actually use them in practice. She found herself regretting this optimism as they got to actually casting spells, though.

Ten minutes into the lesson and her wand was hanging limply by her side and she caught herself nodding off more than once. Longbottom, who was supposed to be jinxing her, was turning purple in the face and growing increasingly frustrated with every failed casting. She'd given up trying to assist him as every time she'd try was met with grunts and one-worded responses. She couldn't quite tell if he was annoyed at her or scared of her, and to be honest, she didn't much care either way.

"Will you please cast something?" she asked loudly, drawing a few eyes.

"I'm trying!" Longbottom grunted.

The lesson ended without as much as a single spell being cast on Daphne's part and as Professor Snape dismissed them, she couldn't help leaking a glare over in Longbottoms direction as he sped sheepishly away from her.

"Do you remember me telling you were we casting non-verbal spells, Flamel?"

"Oui… My apologies, Mister Snape."

"Sir."

"Pleaze do not call me sir, Mister Snape. I am ah lady."

Daphne caught the noise in her throat, but several other people weren't as lucky, ending up gasping or snorting at Professor Snape's expense. Nearby, Tracey grinned appreciatively.

"Detention, my office. Saturday at four o'clock. Just because you're new, don't think I'm going to take any cheek from you, Miss Flamel."

Dominique deflated at his words.

A look of sad confusion struck her face, but she didn't rise to it. She shrank awkwardly away from him and moved to collect her things, looking not dissimilar to a child being sent to her room. Daphne's eyes narrowed and before she could even acknowledge it, she was moving towards the front of the class.

"She wasn't being cheeky! She just didn't know what you meant," she snapped. "Her English is bad, you can't bully her for that."

Silence struck the room.

Daphne took a sharp inhale of breath. Most of the class had already drained out, but those who remained had fallen deathly silent, as though waiting for a pin to drop. Professor Snape suddenly loomed over her like a predatory animal.

"You could always join her in detention... if you feel it's unjust?"

With the heavy weight of her classmates eyes following her, Daphne fought to keep a sterile expression.

"I am a Prefect… and I am a witness to what just transpired. I can report you to Professor Dumbledore."

There was a stirring in the room. The atmosphere shifted, but again, nobody made a sound.

The Professor cocked an eyebrow, unphased, and moved his hands in a casual shrug.

"Then I'll see you _both_ in my office, Saturday at four o'clock, Miss Greengrass," he said, then with a scowl, quietly added, "Hopefully you'll be this talkative then."

Before she had time to rattle off another flex of authority at him, he turned sharply and vanished up the stairs into his office. Even if she wanted to continue berating him, her clenched fist and grinding teeth would have made it impossible.

She released a harsh exhale of breath. As she turned back around, she found the few remaining pairs of eyes watching her diligently. Fighting a hard blush, she made her way back to her book bag, only now just registered how loud her heart was in her ears. Tracey and Dominique were waiting by her desk, one looked upset, and the other, the opposite, looking ecstatic.

"_Merci_, Daffy… " Dominique gave a sympathetic smile. "Ah really didn't know what 'e wanted from me."

Daphne snatched her things from the table as she marched past them.

"Shut up."

* * *

Daphne had a break before her next lesson, with Tracey and Dominique trailing loosely behind her, the three of them made their way the short distance through the castle to their common room. Her heart was thundering by the time they reached the room, and the dungeons usual dark and cosy aesthetic did little to lighten her mood. As she dropped onto a leather sofa and pulled out her bookbag, she used her revision book as the only way to shut out the world around her.

"What you guys have next?" Tracey asked both her and Dominique, but seemed to target the question more at the latter.

"Apparition," they both answered with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"I'm free for the day now… wanna chill before lesson?"

"Chill?"

"Chill with each other," Tracey repeated herself, and then after a second, clarified further, "Like, get food or something. Chill, you know?"

Daphne could practically feel the attention shifting onto her. She lifted her face from the Arithmancy textbook, and low and behold, saw Dominique staring at her with wide eyes and a lip stuck out. She repressed the sudden urge to growl back at the girl.

_"Se détendre."_

"_Merci_. Yes, then. Ah would like to _chill_."

Daphne pushed her book bag off couch and switched to a better sitting position. It would somehow be easier for her to get revision done now out of lesson, since she'd be able to catch up on what she'd missed out on waiting for Longbottom to join in. She definitely had no intention to 'chill', but it also appeared both Tracey and Dominique had no intention of leaving the vicinity anytime soon. She did her best to push her housemates to the back of her mind. They weren't on the same level as her, and were completely oblivious to what she was going through.

She'd been struggling with her weeks more than the rest had, today wasn't the first temper tantrums she'd caught herself having. Everywhere she looked she found dark elements creeping into her life; eyes watching her from all directions and a general feeling of unease following her around the castle. Avoiding Professor Snape had gotten more difficult, what with Defence Against the Dark Arts being one of her core subjects, but she had at least been able to escape a follow up to the scolding she'd received the week previous. She doubted today's outburst would be treated as fairly, though.

And then there was Harry, who was… a different matter, altogether.

She had finally got past her own stubbornness and accepted that she missed him, but that wouldn't make a difference in her actions. She longed for a boring life now more than ever. Focusing on tests, worrying about makeup, keeping up with pets. When had her life become so dangerous, she asked herself? No matter what she did, she couldn't escape this daunting aura that seemed to dampen every conversation and follow her to every class. It was like a rain cloud dangling above her, and, of course, the only shelter she could take from it - the only one who made her happy these days - would just dig her hole even deeper.

"You are goin' for zhe Quidditch Cap'in?"

"Well, my _tutor_ seems to reckon I'm a shoe-in for the position," Tracey boasted proudly. "Do they play Quidditch at Beauxbatons?"

"Oui! But et's different to 'ere, we do not divide between 'ouses, there are no 'ouses in Beauxbatons, we divide our teams by elements."

"Elements?"

"Water, Earth, Fire and Air. I was in zhe Fire team."

"I mean… well, it definitely makes sense that you're in the Fire Team."

"Pardon?"

"Yanno… since you're so hot."

Daphne repressed a gag, which was luckily drowned out by laughter from Dominique, who took the joke in better spirits.

"Zhat is 'orrible!" she cheered. "Does that usually work?"

"Ahh well, you know what they say, even spaghetti is straight until it's…"

Daphne's head snapped up from her book. Tracey caught her menacing glare, and sank awkwardly back into her seat.

"_Until_?" Dominique asked. "Until it's what?"

"Until… it's… gay."

There was an ugly cackle from somewhere in the room, and the sound of it caused Daphne's temper reared its ugly head again. Pansy strolled in proudly, cocking her hips from side to side with each step. Millicent lingered nervously behind her.

"What was that?" Tracey asked her.

"I said that you're disgusting," Pansy snarled. "Trying to get off with the new girl."

Daphne kept an eye on the situation from the safety of her book.

She'd seen what had happened; Pansy had mumbled under her breath as she was passing and hadn't meant to say it outloud, but had then seen the opportunity for confrontation and leapt at it. The girl was closing in, leering at them with a face practically begging for a response that she could jump on. Her patience had ran out and she was in no mood for fist fight right now… Come to think of it, that was probably exactly why Pansy decided to act up.

"Leave those opinions at the door, Pansy," she said sternly.

Pansy scoffed with a painfully cheery tone.

"Of _course_ the traitor would jump in!" she laughed.

Daphne flexed her nostrils. There was a steadily brewing rage inside her. It was taking all she had not to jump out of her seat at the girl.

"I am a Prefect," she reiterated. "If you think you can get away with talking to me like that you have another thing coming, Parkinson."

"Oh, you _love_ your labels, don't you?" Pansy sang merrily. "Ice Queen, Prefect, traitor, Hogwarts Bike."

A rush of hot fury swept through Daphne and before she knew it, she was launching herself out of her seat at Pansy.

Seconds later she was snatched around the waist by Tracey, who had been anticipating her move and blocked her path, forcing herself between the two girls. Milicent looked more uneasy than before, while Pansy howled in obnoxious enjoyment.

"Knock it off! Daffy, you _know_ she is just messin'!" Tracey whispered harshly in her ear. "She'd trying to get a rise out of you!"

"Just look at you!" Pansy laughed. "And to think, people _actually_ used to be scared of you!"

Daphne growled back, but only succeeded in making Pansy chuckle harder.

"I'm about to give them a new reason to be!"

"Whatever. _Sure_ you are."

Those were the last words she gave, and as Pansy turned to make her way into the dorms, Daphne had a growing desire to jinx her into the same wall that she had done to her last year.

With the common room now vacated, she dropped back into her position, and didn't stop to acknowledge Tracey or Dom as she allowed the textbook to cover her face again. Her chest was heaving and she gripped the books covers with white-hot knuckles. If she didn't have company with her, she'd be taking out this stress in a different, far more violent way.

Tracey landed next to her on the leather sofa, the cushion beneath her letting out a slow and awkward deflating sound.

"Don't get into fights for me, dude. You've gotten pissy recently, you need to knock it off… Just 'cause you can kick her arse doesn't mean you should. I can handle myself."

Tracey's tone came with a level of seriousness - and did she even detect warning? - in it that was totally out of character of everything that she had come to know about her half sister.

Daphne peaked an eye over her book.

"I have _not_ gotten pissy."

Tracey, sure enough, was looking back at her with a dishevelled look on her face. It almost looked unnatural, plastered across such a usually care-free individual.

"You say that, but you just tried to twat Pansy over some dumb joke? You've never been that protective before," she shot back. "Don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate it, but Pansy used to call me all nasty sorts when I came out and you never did anythin' then."

Tracey was not not settling down with her tone and it was beginning to unsettle her. Just as she thought it was actually about to amount to something, the words in her throat were drowned out by Dominique.

"Wait, you actually do like women?"

The question clearly took Tracey off guard.

Her mood did a one-sixty and she sent about bobbing her mouth open and close like a goldfish, while a heavy blush rushed to her cheeks. She scratched the back of her head, and tugged her beanie slightly down over her fringe.

"Yeah…" she sputtered out. "But guys as well, though! Don't... don't, er, don't read anything into that flirting, earlier, by the way... That's kinda my thing. I joke a lot, it's not personal. I mean, not… no, not exactly. I'm like that with a lot of people, I wasn't just…"

Dominique held up a hand in silence, which Tracey looked immensely thankful for.

"Et doesn't bother me, don't worry. But why iz Pansy not okay with it?"

Tracey struggled, and let out a long sigh.

"Pansy… is bitch," she settled on after a moment. "Don't worry about her. She's from an old fashioned family, she doesn't mean it."

"Well _ah_ come from one of zhe oldest families in France, and we do not hate unless it iz earned," Dominique retorted with a frown on her face, and then added, "_She_ has certainly earned it."

Tracey gave an optimistic smile, and nodded in acknowledgement.

"We used to be mates with her, once. Or... we tolerated each other. I don't think she's actually bothered by it as much as she lets on, she just likes to be mean."

"Then what changed? Why are you not friends any longer?"

There was a silence, in which Daphne interjected for the first time.

"Nothing changed. We put up with her more than we should have and now we know our worth."

It took a second, but Dominique grew a smile. The French girl nodded in agreement.

"I like zhe sound of that."

With that sense of finality, Daphne turned her attention back to her book, and tried her best to purge the temper from her system.

She was able to disassociate with whatever Tracey and Dominique ended up talking about next, but it was at the expense of not reading what was in front of her. She ended up zoning out, and found herself a million miles away from Hogwarts and the people inside it.

She hadn't seen Tracey act like that before. Her two moods, traditionally, were playful or hostile, with no in-between. Seeing her serious-up like that almost struck as a shock to the system. Was it just because Dominique was here and she fancied her, was she trying to show off? That definitely wouldn't be out of character for Tracey, but a lingering unease assured Daphne it wasn't something that conceited. In actuality, she knew there was some truth in her accusation earlier.

Daphne definitely had a shorter temper recently, but she had thought she was doing a better job at disguising it. She kept her responses blunt, to-the-point and never lingered in one place for too long, that wasn't too out-of-character for how she considered herself to act normally anyway, but had she really been picking fights? What other changes in her behaviour had leaked through?

She was determined to keep her home life as separate from her education as she could, but if she had now degraded herself to chatting back to teachers and picking fights, what else was slipping through the gaps? Snape annoyed her, Harry annoyed her, Pansy annoyed her, even Dominique's screeching voice was beginning to annoy her… she wasn't exactly left with much escapism these days, beyond total isolation. The amount that she had going on in her life, could she really be blamed for being short tempered?

"Isn't that right, Daffy?"

Daphne's head perked up at the mention of her name, and she found herself again unwillingly involved in a conversation.

"Pardon?"

"The Giant Squid."

"What did you say?"

"I was tellin' Dom about the squid in the lake."

Daphne shook her head, and tried her best to return to the safety of her textbook.

"It's a myth, there is no squid in the lake."

"No it's not, you know there is one! Professor Hagrid told us about it in third year!"

Again, she felt her internal temperature rising at the interruption.

She really couldn't be blamed for having difficulty dealing with all she had going on, that much was true. She had her grades to worry about, not to mention whatever horrific and in-humane thing her father was planning for her next, and skirting around the school like a rat trying to avoid Harry Potter... and now even her friendship group had been compromised with a high-pitched french accent. She was justified being annoyed, that much was definitely true.

But this kept on happening. This wasn't an isolated incident. She lost control when it first came out about hers and Harry's affair, but now she was doing it again. She took pride in self control, she had built her own success. Her life was hers and hers only. But now, to have it monitored and controlled twenty-four-seven by people like her father and Pansy was just... Just…

The grip on her textbook tightened.

When had she become everyone's punching bag? And why had she allowed herself into that position?

There was nowhere to turn in her life that she didn't have people out to get her, and the few breaks or reliefs she got were too few and far between. Isolation used to be a choice, she enjoyed the peace that being alone gave her, but now it has become a necessity, and without it she was a mess. Being alone was the only time she truly felt at rest, and even that was a shrinking ice cap. Coming back to Hogwarts was meant to be back to her good life, where she got things back on track and lived a life she was proud of.

But this? It barely felt like life at times.

"Daphne, et iz time for lesson, are we going?"

Her snapped from her trance again.

She was doing herself no favours, getting worked up like this. She needed to get away.

"Go without me. I'll write in sick."

Tracey's face practically hit the floor.

"You've never missed a lesson unless it's been an emergency. Like, Tori-level emergency. What's up?"

Daphne shook her head, and dabbed her now-moist forehead with her bandage ridden sleeve.

"I'll make up for what I miss. Just tell Madam Kjellberg I'm sorry and I'll talk to Professor Snape about it."

Dominique was unsure, but agreed regardless. She gave a pitiful nod, collected her bookbag and left the room on her own. She looked tiny against the rooms big architecture, but it earned her no sympathy from Daphne.

"What's up, man?"

The question came from Tracey, whose look of pent-up aggression was replaced with concern.

Daphne considered the girl before her.

Her gentle tone was quite opposite to it a minute ago, meaning she'd succeed in throwing the girl through another loop. It hadn't been intentional, but then again, it also hadn't been the first time.

"Have I really been getting more aggressive?" she asked genuinely.

Tracey nodded. It wasn't a happy nod. She shifted in her seat, moving her head in and sealing the two in a now-intimate exchange.

"Well, I mean," she struggled, "I've... definitely noticed it more. There was just then, and earlier in lesson with Snape. And when you told Dom to shut up. And then there was the other week with Pansy on the train. You're being rude, and not like you usually are."

"I didn't _mean_ to tell her to shut up…" Daphne jumped to her own defence, "... she just has a really annoying voice."

"But you still did," Tracey shot back, unflinching but also sympathetic.

Daphne felt her back sinking into the settee.

"You've been kinda short tempered with everyone… feels like the only times you really speak to us these days are to have a go at us."

Tracey left it on that, but the look on her face said she had a lot more to say.

This was the first time in forever she'd seen her approach a subject so seriously. Even revealing she was leaving Harry had come with its share of over-the-top exaggerations during the lecture she'd received from it.

This wasn't like that, and now she no-longer had Dominique here to show off in front of. Tracey was being one hundred percent serious, and Daphne didn't know that was even possible for her. Had she really been pushed to that? Sure Daphne was wound up over Professor Snape right now, but that was justified, wasn't it? And the other times were also justified when they'd happened moment, she was only responding the way anyone else would in her situation.

In fact, more than that, she was doing everything she could to keep everyone happy, and it was at the expense of her own mental health. So how had she, again, wound up the cause of the problem? It was fine when anyone else let off steam, but it wasn't okay for her?

"Daffy?"

Daphne shut her eyes. She didn't know why, but seeing only the void helped her ground herself, and grounding was exactly what she needed right now.

She shifted from her position suddenly, snatching up her textbook and book bag.

"I need to revise. I'm sorry that you feel that way."

"Daph, I shouldn't have said that! I'm sorry!"

But it was too late, Daphne was already on her way to the dormitories, where she would spend the rest of the night is blissful isolation.

* * *

Isolation was rapidly becoming less of a crutch and more a close, personal friend.

It was the only place she found herself where she couldn't mess up. Only there held no expectations from her. In isolation she was Daphne Greengrass, the Ice Queen of Hogwarts and student witch prodigy. She wasn't the teacher-arguing, short tempered, problematic Death Eater's daughter that kept staring back at her through mirrors.

At some point she'd fallen asleep, which she only realised when she woke up in a cold sweat hours into the night. Her back was moist and the sheets below her with it, everything felt sticky, clammy and horrible. She peeled herself out of bed the second she could, and found remnants of her studying in the form of books and scrolls forming a secondary blanket above her first one. She plucked her nightgown from her bedside and crossed quickly into her private bathroom.

She turned the cold steel tap and a hissing followed, but a noticeable absence of any water.

She sighed.

The plumbing in her room was faulty, it had been since they'd gotten back this term. She didn't want to go to Professor Snape about it and hadn't found the time to fix it herself. But she desperately needed a drink and couldn't go back to bed without one. Going to someone else's dorm wasn't an option, as even if she was in the mood to talk to people, allowing herself into Tracey's dorm without permission just felt wrong.

So instead she slipped into her slippers and unlocked the door to her dormitory, stepping out into the cold communal corridor. A rush of chills swept up her back. Her body begged to return to the comfort of bed, so she made heist in her way. Stepping into the common room, it was thankfully abandoned and lit only by an eerie green glow from the black lake.

There was an adjacent kitchen to the common room, one rarely used and as such mostly hidden from view. The idea of Slytherins having to make their own food was a preposterous one, but the room had never seen itself demolished like the other houses had been.

Plucking a dusty glass from the draining board, she twisted the tap and a cold spray of water hit the bottom of the sink. She rinsed her glass out a few times and then filled it up. As she drank, she let letting a cold stream of water escape her lips and dribble down her neck. It did wonders to cool her down, and that was when she realised why she was so thirsty in the first place; she was absolutely boiling. Whatever dream caused her to be in this state was long lost to her memory now.

She emptied the glass but kept the water flowing to rinse it out again. Steadily though, she twisted the tap off. A new noise had entered the common room, and as she crossed out of the kitchen, she found she was no longer it's only inhabitant.

Draco had entered, still in his school robes, and looked worse for wear. Daphne tightened her nightgown instinctively. Draco noticed her, and despite his state, sent a scowl her way.

"What'd you want?" he asked.

He sounded like he was struggling for breath, like he'd ran here from somewhere far in the castle. She narrowed her eyes, and moved in cautiously.

"You're out past curfew."

"And?" he shot back.

She took a second to consider him further. Whatever he'd just been up to, he certainly hadn't planned on bumping into somebody on his way back. He was caught off-guard and on the defensive, even more so than usual. She could even spy his eyes shooting around her for escape routes.

"There's a curfew for a reason."

Draco gave her a final grimace and rushed past her to the boys dormitory, but not before she was able to catch him mutter under his breath.

"Piss off."

Just like that she was alone again, but now she was wide awake. The whole interaction had played out in less than ten seconds, and her mind was still playing catch-up to it.

An ugly thought sprung to mind. Draco had been given a mission by The Dark Lord as well, if she recalled. Hers was incredibly demanding, so she could only imagine what his was if he had been given one of a similar nature. The difference was she was prepared to fail it, but Draco on the other hand…

A headache began to set in on Daphne. Probably the result of her overheating while asleep, or maybe whatever bad dream she'd had was catching up to her. Or maybe it was the daunting reality that she'd just discovered yet another problem that she needed to concern herself with.


	8. Dumbledore's Task

The dense fog drained from his vision and Harry suddenly felt his feet hit the floor. The room span around before eventually settling in front of him, churning his stomach. He lulled his head back drunkenly, and saw he had returned to familiarity of The Headmasters twilit office.

"Did you know, sir?" he gasped out.

Dumbledore stepped forward from the shadows, his face sober, and replied grimly.

"Did I know that at the time I had just met who would go on to become one of the darkest Wizards of all time?"

Harry nodded, or, he tried to, with his mind and body still playing catchup to all the information he'd just received.

"No… If I had I would have…"

The Headmaster shook his head, but then fell deathly silent. Whether or not he actually intended on finishing the rest of his sentence, Harry couldn't tell, but he didn't try to question him.

"During his time at Hogwarts," Dumbledore started again, this time more into it, "Tom Riddle became close to one particular teacher... Can you guess who that teacher might be?"

Through the fighting smoke and shadows of his mind, a bulb flickered on inside Harry's head and he quickly found a lot of actions this term suddenly clicking into place.

"You didn't bring Professor Slughorn back just to teach Potions, did you, sir?" he answered,

"No I did not… You see, Professor Slughorn possess something I desire very dearly. But he will not give it up easily."

Harry leaned forward across the Pensive, stabilising his hands around the rim of the stone. He could think more clearly now, he stared at Dumbledore attentively.

"You said Professor Slughorn will try and collect me..."

"I did."

"Do you want me to let him?"

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore's answer was quick and his tone was certain.

Though Harry didn't done it intently, he nodded firmly to himself. The thought of this year passing by without something out of the ordinary going on was an improbable one.

The lamps in the Headmasters Office now seemed to glow more warmly than before. Harry's attention drew to the window, where the sky outside was inky black, but small flecks of snow, unusual for this time of year, had begun gently crushing themselves against the glass. Dumbledore noticed their new weather.

"That'll do us for tonight I think, Harry."

After a moment or so, Dumbledore pulled himself from the stone column he was leaning against and clapped his hands together.

Harry moved gently towards the door, but did not leave yet.

"The prophecy… do you really think it has something to do with Voldemort's past?"

"I believe it has _everything _to do with Voldemort's past. Nobody is born evil, Harry. I think in the right circumstances, even Tom Riddle could have grown up a hopeful man. Finding out what prevented that could be the key to unravelling how to defeat him, and maybe prevent it happening again."

"Again, sir?"

Dumbledore turned away from him and slowly traced his way up the steps toward his desk.

"I wasn't merely attempting to sound dramatic during in the Great Hall this start of term, Harry. Riddle walked these halls just as you and I did. If he could go on to commit such atrocities, then what is stopping…" he paused and turned back to him suddenly, a feeble smile on his face, "... actually… best not play devil's advocate so late into the night. Goodnight, Harry."

"Right…" Harry said, confused yet understanding at the same time.

He turned to go properly this time, but stopped again as another question occurred to him.

"Can I tell anybody what you've told me?"

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then nodded weakly.

"The Order, yes. And I'd say Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have also proved themselves trustworthy.. Though... I must ask that you keep Miss Greengrass in the dark about our meetings from now on."

"You think _Daphne _is…?"

Harry's voice had leapt out of his throat without him knowing, and as such came out as an over-the-top squeal. Dumbledore merely dismissed him off with a wave of his hand.

"Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

"Time to pack up!" Slughorn cheered. "And that'll be an extra twenty-points to Gryffindor for another immaculate brewing from Mister Potter!"

A unanimous groan swept the Potions classroom.

Embarrassment crept up his back like a giant spider and he was only able to muster an awkward smile at his other classmates. The only person in the room looking at him that was angrier than Hermione was Daphne, who had what look like cat-sick spilled all over her table. Harry mused a playful idea that maybe he could finally talk to her if he offered her some Potions tutoring… He'd be slapped if he said that joke to her in person.

Luckily, nobody said anything to him as everyone began packing up their things and filling out of the room. Harry dawdled behind them, taking an inordinate amount of time to do up his bag. Hermione stormed out of the room, while Ron, Harry caught a glimpse of, slowed to wait for him outside the door.

He turned his attention to Professor Slughorn, who was still tidying up his equipment.

Last night's dive into Tom Riddle's memories was still slowing working its way round his system. Seeing the Dark Lord - a man Harry had nothing but fear and contempt for - reduced to a crying child in an orphanage just didn't seem like something from this reality. Then it occurred to him that was probably exactly Voldemort's intent. Seeing him exposed like that humanised him in a way he imagined the Death Eaters had never considered. It had certainly left him with a lot to think about last night, and upon re-examination, he almost felt better now having a clear idea of what he was up against.

But why Dumbledore's mission for him was to grow close to Slughorn could be anyone's guess? Knowing your enemy makes sense, but did Dumbledore believe Slughorn had some kind of secret about Voldemort's youth that he wasn't sharing? How close had the two gotten exactly? And, outside the obvious favouritism in lesson, why did he think Harry was the one who could get through to him?

These, as well as the Headmasters not-so-subtle digs about Daphne, made Harry consider a lot of things. Whatever his intentions were, Harry trusted Dumbledore. Whether or not he was right to was a different matter altogether, but frankly at this point, and after his none-appearance all of last year, he was simply happy to be involved with the Headmasters plans.

"Hey, Professor Slughorn? I was wondering if you had any plans for this weekend?"

"Harry, my boy!" Slughorns face lit up at his appearance. "Well now that you mention it, I was actually planning on heading down to Three Broomsticks! Never do really get the chance to wind down with a Butterbeer after classes, you know! Ah... shall I be seeing you there?"

Harry smiled brightly, and patted the Professor on the back.

"You will now, sir!"

* * *

The snow that began to fall during Harry and Dumbledore's meeting went on to continue through the week. They were barely a month past terms start, yet the snowfall had struck Hogwarts like it was the dead of winter. It had been a particularly cold summer, so it didn't really come as a surprise to anyone, but this year was definitely running quickly… or at least, it certainly felt that way with no big monsters running around this time.

Harry had his Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his lower face, with the upper exposed part now feeling raw and numb. He wished desperately he had the good sight to bring his Quidditch goggles out with him. Hagrid lumbered slowly beside him, kicking up big mounds of snow with each step. The bitter wind was like knives on Harry's face, but Hagrid marched along joyfully like was a simple breeze to him. Then again, Harry considered, the half-giant probably had so much hair covering his face that he couldn't actually feel it.

"How you feelin about 'ogs 'ead?" the half-giant asked. "Certainly be a lot quieter than Three Broomsticks, as lovely as Rosmerta is an' all."

The Hogsmede trip was here, and again, he'd found Ron and Hermione's presence was an absent one. He couldn't hold this against them since they'd be chaperoning third years today, but the inside of the common room had been driving him crazy and he was determined to have a good time out today. He sent a letter down to Hagrid, who was incredibly happy to have the offer, and suddenly Harry's plans and alibi for the day were provided for him.

"Ah can't believe am takin little 'Arry out for his first pint. It weren't yesterday that I coulda held you in the palm of me hand!" Hagrid cheered.

Deciding to let the half-giant have his fun, Harry neglected to tell him that this would in fact _not _be his first pint, nor his first time even drinking in Hogsmeade.

"Hagrid, you could probably _still _hold me in the palm of your hand," he laughed. "And I was actually hoping we _could _head into the Three Broomsticks?

Hagrid gave a joyous belly laugh.

"Ah course we can then! Will Ron and 'Ermione not joining us ah take it?"

"Prefect duties. We'll probably see them down here with the third years, actually."

"Ahh well, can 'ardly blame them then. 'Ere we are!"

Considering the sudden snowstorm, the streets of Hogsmede were surprisingly busy, with groups of third years being led around by Prefects and older students coming in and out of shops in large packs. He tried to keep an eye out for not just Ron and Hermione, but Daphne was well, as he scanned the crowds around them.

Hagrid pointed a thickly-gloved hand towards the The Three Broomsticks, which was mercifully open, and the two crossed the street in no time.

"Thank god," Harry gave a quick shiver as the warm, beer-scented air and the smell of cigarette ash enveloped him. "Let's never leave here."

Hagrid chuckled beside him.

"There you are, Harry!" said a shrill voice from across the room.

Professor Slughorn, who was wearing an enormous fluffy coat and oversized fur collar, was occupying a booth in the corner of the room. Harry made a beeline for him across the crowded room, while Hagrid had to slowly worm his way through the other patrons behind him.

"Good to see you, Professor!"

"Thought you weren't going to make it in this blasted weather! I got you a pint… though, I suspect the head on it's gone down by now."

Slughorn gestured to the butterbeer across from him, and Harry noticed two already-emptied glasses beside him.

It took him a second, but behind Harry, Hagrid finally joined them at their table.

"Now just a secon' 'Orace!" Hagrid said defensively, "I brought 'Arry out so ah could buy 'im his first pint! Only right it gets to be me!"

Slughorn's face light up at Hagrid's arrival, then as he processed his wording, his smile dropped slightly.

"Well I…" he deflated, "I've already bought it for him now, but I suppose if that's what Mister Potter wants then…"

Slughorn went to pull the pint in his direction, but Hagrid's huge paw came into frame and plucked it from the table.

"Ah shan't worry about it 'Orace. Ey'ar 'Arry, I'll ave this and the next round'll be on me, 'ow's that?"

Harry opened his mouth but before he had chance to respond, Hagrid downed the butterbeer in two big chugs. Harry and Slughorn stared at one another, mouths slightly agape. Hagrid tapped the empty glass back onto the table and as quickly as he had appeared from the crowd, the half-giant miraculously disappeared back into the pub atmosphere.

"Always been a card, that Hagrid has been, yes…" Slughorn laughed politely.

Jumping to action, Harry manoeuvred his way around the barstools and took a seat next to the Potions Professor.

"So, how are you finding life back at Hogwarts, Professor?"

"Well it's been very nice, now that you mention it! Teaching here was some of the best years of my life... in fact, I've always said, find yourself a job that you enjoy doing and you'll never work a day in your life!" Slughorn said, poking him gently in the chest.

Slughorn was always quite energetic and hands-on during lesson, but now even more so, Harry noticed. Then again, that was a likely result of the two empty butterbeer glasses already by his side.

With luck, he could he get what he needed and be done before Hagrid even got back. He had been taught how to be thorough and efficient with his words from the very best, and he tried to visualise what she would be doing in his situation right now.

"How many years will that have been you've there now, Professor?"

"Oh, now that's question isn't it… Why, I'd say including this one, a damn sight near fifty years I'll have worked there! Merlin's beard, time flies!"

"You would have taught a lot of people in that time, then?"

"Oh hundreds, easily! Possibly even a thousand, you know… Time really does speed by and, well, I'd be lying if I said faces didn't start to blur together a bit!" he added with a laugh. "Still though, I always remember the good ones. Oh yes! You know, actually... I run this kind of get-together for students that I'm particularly proud of."

Slughorn straightened up in his seat and seemed more sober than he was a second ago.

"A bit of a business opportunity for those up-and-coming to mingle... reserved usually only for students of the most elite. Skye Parkin, the Seeker of the Wigtown Wanderers -though of course you know that already m'boy didn't you? Her father used to be a member! Oh, as did your dear old mum, bless her heart. She was one of my prized pupils, in fact! Your father… not one of my best, admittedly. But, that's not a reason why you can't make up for him!" Slughorn laughed merrily to himself.

Harry couldn't help it, and the mention of his mother, not his father for once, turned his strained smile into a genuine one.

"Meetings are held monthly in my office, we also host a Christmas Party, which I dare say is one of the most prestigious events to happen inside Hogwarts walls! And of course, if you're still unsure, I don't suppose it would be too difficult to convince Miss Parkin to pop in for a visit..."

Way later than it should have taken him, Harry finally caught the Professors intention behind his tangent.

"You want _me _to come to these meetings?"

"Of course, my boy!" he gasped. "And you shouldn't worry about not knowing anybody, a few other classmates of yours have also been invited, now let's see there was… Blaise Zabini, of course, his mother makes the absolute - most _delightful - _hot wings you could imagine, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, they're both friends of yours I'm lead to believe? Hm! Yes let's see, who else… Ah, Daphne Greengrass and Melinda Bobbin! No Ravenclaws this time around, that's through no deliberate intention I assure you!" he chuckled.

"Daphne is going?"

"That she is my boy! Both her and her younger sister, actually. Both star pupils, the pair of them… though admittedly Astoria's grades could need a little polishing…" he added that last part with a slight cringe.

The way Slughorn was building this up made it sound like the Yule Ball part two, and Harry remembered how splendidly _that _night had gone for him. Unfortunately, as unappealing as it sounded, he also couldn't deny it would give him a pretty good chance to get to know Slughorn better. It could be two birds with one stone, as it definitely couldn't hurt being around Daphne so much, either. This could be the opportunity he had been waiting for to try and talk things through with her.

"Sounds brilliant, sir…"

It would be convenient, but at the news he'd be spending one night a month playing kiss-up for as long as it took to get the information, his enthusiasm was beginning to drain out. He didn't know how to move the conversation on from there.

Apparently he'd chosen the wrong wording to fall silent on, as Slughorn suddenly sported an unusually cautious tone.

"You know, Harry… I hope you don't mind me being inquisitive, but... there have been certain _rumours_ making the rounds about yourself and the Greengrass girl…"

"Rumours, sir!" Harry jumped in, forcing out a laugh out of himself. "Purely rumours, probably made up by somebody who doesn't like either of us. Actually, I don't think I've ever spoken to her properly outside of lessons."

"Yes, yes, I expected quite as much!" nodded Slughorn, giving another good-natured chuckle. "I didn't take you for the type to get messed up in that lot."

Harry picked up on his wording.

"That lot?" he repeated back.

"Mmhmm. Yes well… awkward as it is..." Slughorn suddenly seemed less confident, and tapped his fingers patiently against his fur coat, "I've had three generations of Greengrass in my classes and they've always ended up a horrible lot. Was no surprise to _me_ when the Death Eater accusations started that Jarvis and Estelle were found guilty, frankly I haven't the faintest idea how Benedict wasn't also included…"

Then, suddenly more upbeat, continued, "Still, though! Daphne appears to stand out from the rest, an absolute role-model student if I've ever seen one! I have quite a keen eye about that sort of thing. I can usually tell whenever someone is destined for greatness, you know. It's sort of a… a gift, if you will!"

At the Professors tone of voice, words suddenly sprung to life in Harry's head.

The exact words he'd told Tracey Davis the other week on the Quidditch Pitch. About patience, and lying in wait. A seeker is a hunter, and a hunter only attacks when he believes he had a chance. Was it too early to try?

These dinner parties sounded like good opportunities, should he lay in wait, and only attempt it when he was sure? Could he really let such an opportunity pass him up right now? He was Slughorn's favourite, and there was no harm in curiosity, was there?

"Could you tell with Voldemort, sir?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew his instincts had betrayed him. Slughorn's face dropped into his chin, while his brow rose above whatever little fringe he had left. The Potions Master's mouth fell agape, spluttering into a cough while Harry quickly leapt to fix his wording.

"Forgive me, Professor! it's just I don't really know a lot of people who knew him when he was young…"

"No, no, Harry, your curiosity is _completely_ justified!" Slughorn announced, coughing loudly into his fist while waving his other hand.

The Professor was trying to put on a facade of recovering, but even Harry could see through the act. He'd overstepped his bounds, and would have to work hard to come back from that later on. Slughorn offered him a measly smile, and took a deep sip of his butterbeer pint before continuing.

"Well I… I have to admit that Tom was… a bit of an odd one. A very cunning man, even from an early age. You know, he..."

"There we are!"

There was a glass clunking noise and Hagrid reappeared at their table, dropping down three freshly pulled pints before them. Slughorn lept in surprise, or relief, and cheered at his arrival. Before Harry had chance to push for him to finish his sentence, Hagrid barged his way to the middle and pulled himself a seat beside the two. He slid a pint across the wooden table.

"Down the 'atch, 'Arry!"

Harry feigned a smile and took the beer in his hands, necking a few swigs of the butterscotch drink.

"Ma 'ickle 'Arry, all grown up! Why, yer gonna bring a tear to an old giants eye."

He slammed his mug down the table and again, did his best, not-at-all-over-the-top smile at his Potions Professor.

"Sir, you were saying_…_"

"Yes, yes, of course, Harry! Slug Club meetings are at the end of every month, I absolutely _insist _on having you as the guest of honour!"

"No, I meant about-"

"Sorry it took so long! Can you believe 'ow busy it is in 'ere?" Hagrid gestured around them. "And ah tell you what, ah've 'alf a mind to call Flich down 'er and get 'alf of this lot checked fer ID!"

Harry could feel his opportunity slipping away from him, and reluctantly, decided to let it go.

It was probably for the best the subject changed. He hadn't planned on Slughorn having such a bad reaction to the topic, and be honest, using The Dark Lords name was probably an oversight on his part. It wasn't like he wouldn't have the opportunity to bring it up at these new dinner parties he was now invited to, and now he knew how _not _to approach the subject.

With a sigh, he took another couple of swigs from his pint. The tangy sweetness did a lot to relieve his heavy soul.

* * *

The rest of their pub visit played out by the numbers and Harry even caught himself enjoying it eventually. The topic of Voldemort never arose in conversation again, but he was satisfied knowing he'd get more chances to try again. The weather outside never let up, and by the time had come for them to make their way back up to the castle, they found themselves trudging through over a foot of snow. The wind had died down thankfully, so the trio had no problem conversing on their way up to the carriages.

"Big Quidditch match coming up, isn't that right Harry?"

"Yes sir, Gryffindor against Slytherin. Week before Christmas break."

"Well, you have my best wishes, but of course, my loyalties are bias! Do remember that offer about Skye is still on the table, just in case you needed a little extra convincing!"

"Thank you, Professor."

"A good line up this year? Ginny Weasley as Chaser, I believe?"

Harry nodded stiffly.

"She's one of the best."

"So I hear! Still, I hear the mess of the Slytherin team won't make it too difficult a match… though you didn't hear that from me, of course! I'll still be in the stands cheering for my house! Baring this weather improves!"

Hagrid shook his head.

"Lookin' ter be a big one, she is! Giants 'ave already begun ta migrate down south, they always 'ave a keen sense with these things, they do. Winters come early they're sayin."

Slughorn didn't look phased.

"I've seen matches played in storms that have torn roofs from houses! And I doubt any storm will hamper the skill of the great Harry Potter, ey?"

Harry gave an expressionless smile.

At that exact moment, an impact of snow collided with the back of his head, exploding over his robes. He flinched in surprise, Slughorn took an alarmed step back and Hagrid swung his giant figure in the direction the snowball had come from.

Harry followed his eyeline to see Tracey marching through the snow towards them, with an unfamiliar Slytherin trailing behind her.

"Hey, Captain!" Tracey beamed, and then noticed his other company. "Alright, Professor Hagrid!"

Hagrid growled back at her.

"Now, now, then! I will not be toleratin' any bullyin', even off of 'Ogwarts grounds!"

Harry's hand leapt to Hagrid's side.

"She's playing Hagrid, don't worry... Really."

"Ah, well in that case... good ter see you again Davis!" The half-giants mood did a sudden one-twenty. "An' you must be Dom'nic Flamel! Don't suppose Madame Maxime 'as mentioned me at all?"

He was talking to the other Slytherin girl, one Harry had sworn he'd never seen in all his years at Hogwarts - and apparently that was why. She must have come from Beauxbatons? Harry had never heard of a student transferring wizard schools before, but he couldn't think of a reason why that was an unusual thing to hear. Maybe it was the fact that Hogwarts _was _actually a school sometimes that surprised him?

"Oui, Professor 'Agrid! Though ah've to say she described you as… taller."

Hagrid, if possible, looked both immensely happy and incredibly disappointed both at the same time. The girl, Dominique, didn't leave him chance to follow it up, as eagerly she leapt over to Harry and flashed him a radiant smile.

"And you are 'Arry Potter! Ah am a friend of Gabrielle, ah 'ave 'eard so much about you!" she sang with an almost fangirl-squeal to her voice.

Harry's stomach bubbled uneasily. He nodded uneasily back at her. Maybe he was just unused to so many friendly Slytherins?

Slughorn lingered awkwardly on the border of their conversation.

"Well, this is really no place to stand and catch up… Why girls, the three of us were about to catch a carriage up to the castle, if you care to join us?"

The trio, now a quintet, joined together and set up the snowy path to the Hogwarts carriages. It was still early enough in the day that they had time before darkness fell, but nobody was willing to linger around and be sure. It would little more than twenty minutes before they'd all be crossing into entrance hall with the smell of dinner on the horizon.

Hagrid lumbered subtly closer to Harry.

"'Ope yer not back in 'ta market for 'nother one, 'Arry."

It took Harry a second to catch his meaning.

"_Hagrid!_ I tutor her in Quidditch!"

"Mmhmm."

Hagrid didn't say anything further, but Harry could tell he wasn't thrilled about the prospect of him associating Slytherins. Given their reputation, and Harry's history with them, he didn't even necessarily blame him, either. In fact he wasn't entirely sure when he became onboard with the idea of it himself, come to think of it. Tracey hadn't heard Hagrid's comment, or if she had, she was playing ignorant to it.

Harry threw a half-smile back at her.

"You guys alright?"

Tracey smiled and nodded back.

"Hogsmeade date. You on one too?"

Harry guffawed and his eyes shot to Slughorn and Hagrid.

"Not exac-"

"Et iz _not_ a date! Stop telling people zhat..."

Dominique jumped in to clarify, but then seemed to catch how harshly she'd spoken and dissolved her words into a chuckle. Harry and Hagrid exchanged an uneasy expression. Tracey shrank away under her scarf.

The whole awkward exchange was cut off when, about six meters in front of them, a horrible shriek pierced the landscape.

All sets of eyes snapped forward.

They had barely passed anyone on their walk, but on the path ahead of them, someone was floating twenty feet in the air. Dominique latched instinctively onto Harry's arm and he had to forcibly untangled himself from the girl.

The persons hair was being whipped around by imaginary wind, their eyes were wide and held a haunting expression. They were screaming. Not small, regular shouts, but one, long and continuous demonic scream, sounding like it was being torn from their throat in slow motion.

The body stopped screaming all of a sudden, then began spasming out. Their arms, legs and torso began twisting and undulating in an inhumane manner, before finally snapping back into place and the broken body dropped feebly to the floor.

Tracey rushed forward to the body, but Hagrid howled fiercely at her.

"Get back! Stay back!" he yelled. "Let me!"

Hagrid reached the girl - who Harry could now distinguish as Katie Bell from the Quidditch Team - and without a word he bent down and scooped her into his arms. He took off instantly up the path towards the castle and despite his size and the harshness of the weather, the speed he achieved discouraged Harry from attempting to follow.

He looked around; the landscape was deserted. If this was some kind of attack, whoever was the culprit had fled the scene. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had long died away and the only sound was the roar of the returning wind.

"Stop, Harry! Don't move a muscle!" Slughorn barked at him.

Harry instinctively froze up. He traced the eyelines of the people around him. He'd backed onto a package on the ground. It was brown-paper parcel that had been split down the middle, revealing a greenish glittering necklace poking out. He leapt quickly away from it.

"_Wingardium Leviosa,"_ Slughorn muttered under his breath.

The necklace rose slowly off the ground. Everyone cautiously closed in around it, trying to get a better look. As Harry stared at it, his scar tingled progressively more and more. Maybe he was just in-the-moment, but he could swear he heard whispers coming from the object.

"This necklace has been cursed… by dark forces."

"Why would somebody curse Katie?" Harry asked absent-mindley. "She doesn't have any enemies, everyone loves her..."

Tracey, who had remained involved, though completely silent, took a step forward. The look on her face was a bleak one.

"Goin' to take a wild guess and say it probably wasn't meant for her, Harry."


	9. Welcome to The Slug Club

Daphne stepped out of the warm water and into the chilly air of her private bathroom. Her joints still creaked with the pains of a long, unending day, but her attitude was now rejuvenated with a fresh mindset. Wrapping a towel around herself and crossing into her dorm room, she plucked her wand from her bed and cast a drying charm over her hair, it sizzled for a second and then poofed out dry as a bone.

She finally had the time to fix her dorms plumbing and the first thing she'd done was treat herself to a steamy shower. It wasn't just for hygiene purposes, either.

It was a really difficult time for Professor Slughorn's first get-together meal to have fallen for her, she'd already sat through an extremely long day that included a two-hour History of Magic lecture, no dinner and then another two hours in Apparition lessons. She'd been looking forward to having the break and decided to soldier through her discrepancies, but her body was now beginning to regret. The first ten minutes of the shower had just been her stood still, naked, while the water consumed her, restoring her strength to a place where she'd be able to give human contact again.

She'd only an hour between lessons end and the start of tonight's meet, so she'd laid her dress out on the bed for herself beforehand. She had been told what to expect tonight and had decided on a smart-casual outfit. There was a very fetching dress in the wardrobe that she had treated herself to during the holidays, but that was too extravagant for tonight, so she decided to leave it until the Christmas party.

Tonight was going to be good for her, she was determined. It was a chance to take her mind off things. It was to be the start of her recovery process, no more temper tantrums or outbursts after this, it was her first outing as the Daphne she knew she was.

She pulled the sleeves of the dress down over her hands and secured the fabric latch between her middle and ring fingers. It would be a long time before her arms would ever be on show again, and that wasn't just a matter of her not wanting to explain the bandages wrapped around it. In the mirror, she combed her hair into a ponytail. A rare sight, as she normally only ever had her hair back during lessons that required it. Stress on the scalp could lead to early balding, as her father had once told her, and she was not about to argue with his, admittedly, magnificent blonde mane.

Giving herself a once over in the mirror, she was satisfied with her appearance. She had dressed to impress and felt genuinely positive in herself for the first time in ages as she stepped out of her dormitory room. A black-haired Slytherin in a similar, yet unique, navy-blue robe, was stood waiting nearby for her. Daphne smiled a greeting.

"You look radiant, Astoria."

The younger Slytherin smiled back at her, but then after a second, frowned.

"You look a mess Daphne, you alright?"

Daphne's face dropped. She jabbed her finger towards the common room.

"Move. Right now."

Okay, no more outbursts starting after she got to the dinner party.

Horace Slughorn wasn't their new head-of-house or anything, but with Professor Snape never coming out of his new office to put his foot down, the former had all but completely taken over the dungeons in the latter's absence. It was her guess he'd attempted to return the halls to their state from when he originally taught at Hogwarts, years prior. His office was still the usual Potions Master's office, but he had renovated an old room at the bottom of the corridor - she briefly remembered it once being a duelling room - into a second office, which was where tonight's meal was being held.

As such, as the pair of Greengrass's left the common room, it was only a short walk through the dungeons to their destination, which they found lit up by candles on the wall outside.

"We just knock, or?" Astoria mumbled.

Daphne leaned a hand forward and knocked thrice on the door.

"Try and be professional tonight, please," she asked curtly. "This is our chance to leave an impression; being in The Slug Club can open a lot of doors for your future."

"The _Slug_ Club?" Astoria turned her nose up at the word.

"Normal rules apply," she reiterated. "Try not to bring up your band, malediction or any of father's business. Nothing that would draw unwarranted attention."

Daphne took pride in her looks on a regular basis, but this was the first time she could remember that she had an excuse to splash out a bit. The last social gathering she attended had been… not what she had expected. Whether that meant meeting The Dark Lord or the incident in the common room last year, she couldn't choose between, and eventually decided that none of her social occasions had ever gone as planned.

This wouldn't be like that, though, Horace had assured her it would be nothing less than the best of the best students attending tonight.

"Enoby Darkness and the Demented Raven Ways _aren't_ a band, we're a punk vocal group."

Daphne forced a smile, pretending that she hadn't heard that insult upon her ears. As the door to the dungeon room opened, she saw that they were indeed not their only invites, but judging by their welcomers reaction, were among the most anticipated ones.

"Ah, Daphne, Daphne! There you are my girl! And you brought little Astoria, how nice!"

The man's enthusiasm caught Astoria off-guard and she made an instinctual half-dive behind Daphne. Daphne gave her a subtle jab with her hip. Astoria nodded back at him, looking apprehensive, but now less-scared. At a gesture from Horace, the two were lead inside and to a large dinner table with the other invites on it, where they then took seats beside one another.

Trying to keep mostly to herself, Daphne only spared a seconds glance at the other guests present.

Blaise sat opposite them, bolt-upright in his seat and looking like he hadn't said a word all night, a Hufflepuff and Gryffindor that she recognised but couldn't put names to faces, Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, who were staring intently back at her and squashed beside them, not entirely looking like he knew how he got there, was Harry. At the sight of him, an unsettling tingle hit Daphne in the pit of her stomach. He didn't make any sign of recognition or greeting to her beyond a nod in her direction, and she thanked him immensely for it. It had been quite a while since his mere presence had been able to make her feel like this, like a toxic nostalgia. She knew how high the chances were of seeing him tonight and had mentally braced herself for it as though it were fact, but it didn't help soothe her unease now it was actually happening.

"Now, Daphne, I'm sure you know everyone here!" Horace announced, moving a hand over each of the guests. "Blaise is in your house, of course! This is Ginny Weasley, she's in the year below you I believe, and I'm also told she's an incredibly talented Quidditch Player! Hermione Granger, of course, who needs no introduction! Brightest young witch of her year! This is Cormac McLaggen, you might have happened across each other - ? No? Ah well! This is the lovely Melinda Bobbin, her family owns a chain of apothecaries! And last but not least, who could forget the infamous, Boy-Who-Lived-Himself, Harry Potter!"

All except for the last, Daphne did a courteous nod to each of the guests as he introduced them to her. Horace clapped his hands together joyfully.

"And might I have the honour of introducing, Slytherin Prefect and witch-prodigy, Daphne Greengrass, as well as her younger sister Astoria, who is leading a very promising career in musical entertainment!"

Ignoring the I-told-you-so look Astoria was giving her, Daphne turned her attention to the table. As soon as she'd settled, a steaming-hot steak materialised on the dish in front of her and her goblet filled with an orangey-red liquid. The first whiff of the meat sent her taste buds pumping rapidly, and the scramble to gather her knife and fork and dig in seemed like a long and drawn out one.

"So, moving forward, Mr. McLaggin, or do you prefer Cormac? Cormac, you happen to see quite a bit of your uncle Tiberius, I believe?"

Determined not to let Harry's presence have an affect on her night, Daphne lifted the meat on her fork and bit into it, and to her surprise, found it exactly up to her usual standards. Well done to the point of being almost black, a preference most considered disgusting of her, but she certainly had to give Horace props for his research.

"Oh yeah," the Gryffindor, McLaggin, grunted, sporting a mouth-full of mashed potato. "Me an 'im went Nogtail huntin' in Norfolk with Bert Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour last summer."

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus, too?" he beamed, suddenly offering him a small tray of pies he had seemingly sprung from nowhere. "Now, tell me…"

_"Harry Potter is here,"_ Astoria whispered by her side.

Daphne's hand sealed tightly over her fork. She glanced back across the table at him, and then around for any wandering ears.

_"I can see that,_" she mumbled back.

_"Wanna go sit on his face?"_

Daphne bent her fork.

_"WHO taught you to talk like that?!"_

Astoria flinched away from her, smirking into her drink. Wrinkling in disgust, Daphne grimaced.

"Tracey did. Of _course_ she did!"

In the aftermath of the disaster at Greengrass Woodhouse last year, Daphne had given Astoria a much-abbreviated version of the events concerning her and Harry. Apparently being back at Hogwarts since must have caught her up on what really happened. They'd definitely be having words later on about what was and wasn't an appropriate joke to make around others.

Horace took to interrogating Blaise next about his home life and because Daphne was still sour about the common room incident last year, she took an immense amount of pleasure over how uneasy the Professor was making him. Blaise went into detail about his mother and her string of ex-partners, and how she used their inheritance money, which she acquired after they vanished from mysterious circumstances, to open a chain of restaurants across Europe. It was a much more toned down version of the story that she had overheard from others, but she didn't blame him for that, given present company.

It was Granger's turn next and apparently in the Muggle-world her parents were some kind of teeth-doctors, that conversation played out just about as boring and uncomfortable for everyone as it sounded would. By the end of the ordeal, it was obvious in Horace's tone he had been expecting more from her, which made Daphne poof out her chest in delightful gratification.

After that, the food was good enough that it allowed Daphne to zone out of whatever was said next. Honestly, the meetup was pretty much exactly how she had expected it to be. Everyone here was invited because they were either, or were connected to, someone well-known or influential in the wizarding world. Blaise had his mother and her food business, Granger had among the highest grades of them all, McLaggin had friends in the Ministry, Bobbin's family was infamously well-off, and of course, Harry-Bloody-Potter. The only one that didn't immediately make sense to her was Ginny Weasley, she couldn't think of anything noteworthy about her. It didn't matter though, Daphne had gotten the invite, that was all that was important. It spoke a lot about her. It didn't matter that she either didn't like, or wasn't on good terms with barely anyone else in the room, Horace had seen potential in her regardless. Finally some good news to send back to father… even if it didn't exactly feel like it.

Truth be told, at this point Daphne had stopped listening to the conversation all together. She wasn't aware of it, but her attention, eyeline and energy was starting to leak a few seats over from her. Perhaps there was a secret part inside of her that made her do it, but her head turned in that direction of its own accord. Unfortunately for her, she only realised what she was doing when she was caught in the act.

Her and Harry's eyes met across the table. Daphne's head snapped back to her food, a sudden hot flush washing over her.

"And what of you, Miss Greengrass? See much of your father lately?"

The mention of her name catapulted her back into the room and she saw that all eyes were on her now. The grip on her fork tightened again. She swallowed steadily, then gave a calm smile.

"My father works in the Ministry. He is the head of the Department of Magical Artefacts, where he oversee's their supervision and classification."

She spoke loud enough for the entire room, but had her main attention on Horace.

"He often travels abroad for his job, which makes seeing him difficult, but he ensures me and Astoria are taken care of."

She was talking off the top of her head, and every word coming out was dealing a great deal of damage to her integrity.

Getting caught staring like that struck as a shock to the system, and her heart was now beating hard in her chest.. It was taking just about everything she had to force her words into something comprehensible.

Horace nodded, listening.

"And is the supervision of magical artefacts a profession that you yourself take interest in as well?" he asked.

Daphne shook her head, still fighting to keep herself in the room.

"I've had… offers, from both my father and others in his department for when I graduate, but I can't say it's particularly my personal field of interest."

Horace chuckled knowingly.

"Mmhmm, your eyes are set on something much more grand than, I take it?"

"Well…" she calmed, thinking for a second, "... Now you mention it, I _did_ want to be the Minister of Magic when I was a girl, actually. Since then I decided on a career in Medical Curse-Breaking felt a little more suitable for today's climate, and slightly more realistic."

As she finished, Daphne regretted her wording. She'd tried to chose her phrasing like a joke, but kept it sterile and it came out sounding almost passive aggressive.

"Why limit yourself, my dear?" Horace chuckled merrily. "A powerful, stunning and intelligent little-thing like you, you could be the youngest Minister of Magic in the world if you really set your heart to it!"

The Professor was unphased by her tone, and she remembered why she'd been so acutely ready to come to tonight's meal. There was something about Horace's tone and general aura that sat well with her. She was rapidly beginning to like this man.

"Thank you, Horace," she said, trying to hold back a blush.

"And now!" Horace shifted massively in his seat, once again dragging all eyes and ears to his attention, "Harry Potter!"

Daphne sagged her shoulders and returned to her food, but kept an eye on Harry's response. He didn't seem to be as phased as she were by them locking eyes, but that was also probably because he generally looked unhappy to be there.

"Where to begin, I feel we barely scratched the surface in the Three Broomsticks!"

That was the first she had heard of those two being friends out-of-class, but then again, it was none of her business. Come to think of it, it did also explain Harry's sudden excelling in Potions of late. It confirmed her suspicions that he was actually good at the subject, and it was his disagreements with Professor Snape that dragged him down. She almost felt compelled to congratulate him for it.

"The Chosen One is a big title, I assume," Horace continued after a short pause. "Of course, there have been rumours for years since it happened… I remember when - well - after that terrible night… Poor Lily, yet you survived, and the word was that you had powers beyond the ordinary. How right we all were, ay? Why, I bet everyone at this table is humbled to share the castle with you! The Man who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Harry said nothing. Daphne sympathised with him, even if he had just given her a heart attack. It was almost comforting to know he was suffering from the same legacy-chasing right now that she was. She had yet to hear him say anything all night, but now he actually had reason not to. A glance around the table, she saw Bobbin, McLaggin and Blaise all staring threateningly at him.

"But now it's all true, I hear? Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to publish inaccuracies from time to time, but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was indeed a prophecy?"

"None of us ever heard it," Granger answered for him.

Eyes switched to her, and Horace suddenly regarded her with great interest.

"You were there too, were you?" he asked.

Granger said nothing more, and Harry shifted around uncomfortably in his seat.

"Honestly, Professor," he spoke up finally, looking apprehensive at best and uncomfortable at worst, "I'm doing my best to just focus on my exams. Trying to put off the whole Chosen-One stuff for now, it can wait until I'm an Auror."

Despite his obscure answer, he seemed happy with it and then set off babbling about something else in his usual chipper tone. The conversation shifted off of Harry and onto who ever was next, but Daphne's attention didn't waver from him.

She'd seen that look on his face before. It was the Please-Let-Me-Live-A-Normal-Life-And-Stop-Forcing-Things-Onto-Me expression.

She knew it well.

* * *

As it went later into the evening, Harry's presence in the room proved too distracting for Daphne to properly enjoy herself. Despite the weeks convincing herself otherwise, she apparently wasn't as over him as she thought she was. By the time everyone had finished their meals, Daphne was debating trying to make her escape. She wasn't enjoying herself quite as much as she thought she would, and she was fully aware of why she wasn't.

Just as she put her knife and fork in the centre of her plate and stood up, however, Horace then announced it was time to mingle, and sent everyone off into different corners of the room. Not wanting to seem rude on her first impression, she reluctantly decided to linger for a bit longer. This was where she grew a lot less confident, as she had an already established reputation among the other students. She was about to make a beeline for Horace, who had yet not grown to hate her, and mingle exclusively with him, but found her path blocked by a taller man.

"Can I help you?"

Blaise rubbed his neck awkwardly.

"I don't know anyone here, either."

By the time Daphne was able to maneuver herself around Blaise, she saw Horace had already delved into deep conversation with Harry. Dishevelled, she leaned back against a table of photographs, and found Blaise doing the same beside her.

"You're kinda cute when you're flustered, you know?"

Daphne deadpanned back at him.

"Piss off."

Blaise just smiled harder.

"I'm kidding!"

He threw his head back and gestured across the room at an uncomfortable-looking Harry.

"We all know _I'm_ not your type..."

Daphne raised her eyebrows at him.

"I am here to enjoy myself. If you are here only to wind me up, I have no problem putting you in your place like I did Pansy."

Despite the threat, there was no anger in her tone. Any shame or embarrassment she could have felt over their scandal was long burned out her system. It was to the point now that, if anything, his comment just left her feeling slightly melancholic.

Her under-reaction apparently wasn't what he was expecting, as he dropped his smile, and shifted into a more jaded mood. He crossed his arms and gestured out into the room, sighing.

"Sluggy has got a pretty good lineup. McLaggen's a bit of a wild card, though."

She frowned at him.

Was he genuinely trying to make conversation with her, after that? Six years of knowing each other the most she ever got off him was teasing, Pansy's party was the first and only time they'd ever actually spoken. Nonetheless... she couldn't deny that they _did_ share the same house and she wasn't particularly looking forward to the prospect of attempting to mingle with anyone outside of it.

"I believe his father is in the Ministry," she answered begrudgingly, but not looking at him.. "Connections, and all that. I'm surprised at Granger."

Blaise chuckled.

"Damn, Daphne. She's the strongest witch in our year, is it really surprising?"

She sent a scowl his way.

"She is _not_. And she's also…"

"You were gonna say a mudblood?"

"No, I wasn't."

Blaise smiled.

She answered quicker than she should have and he noticed. He was right, of course, but she had in-fact paused to think of a more socially-correct term. No amount of good grades could change the fact that Granger was a stranger in their world, which was why Daphne was so sour over the prospect of her doing better in lessons than her, but she liked to consider herself above the usual derogatory name-calling.

She turned to Blaise was about to say something very socially unacceptable to him, when they suddenly had company bounding upon them.

"There we are! My Slytherin groupies!"

Horace grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her in for a squeeze. Any other man to touch her like that was getting a wand up their nose, but as his touch, Daphne felt surprisingly calm.

"Keeping the legacy strong, I hope?"

Blaise gave a forced, but quite convincing grin.

"Hey, cheers for inviting us, Prof!"

Horace jabbed a finger into the boys chest.

"My name is Horace, young man! Call me Professor again and I'll retire, just to prove a point!"

"It's a lovely get-together, Horace," Daphne smiled graciously at him. "We are honoured to be invited."

Horace's eyes lit up and he tightened his grip on her suddenly, perfectly fitting her shoulder under his arm.

"Quite a lot to live up to, you know! Just about every famous witch or wizard from Hogwarts was a member of the Slug Club at some point or another! I'll be expecting great things from you all in the years to come!"

"Then we'll do our best for you…" Blaise took a second to ease out, "... _Horace_."

"Hmm, I expect so! I'll be hope some life-time coupons will be on the table when you take over the family business, ay my boy?"

Horace laughed, but with how specifically he worded it, Daphne doubted he was joking. He then turned his attention to her.

"And you! Daphne Greengrass! The youngest Minister of Magic that ever lived! Why I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other when you come into the office!"

A harsh blush fought its way onto her cheeks, and she was unable to keep herself from smiling.

"Thank you, when I become a _Curse-Breaker_, I'll be sure to remember your kind words, Horace."

The man gave a hearty belly-laugh and gave her another squeeze.

"Right, I shan't keep you! But please, do go and mingle!" he said passionately. "It'd be wrong of us to deny the other houses the privilege of our presence!"

With that he released Daphne, gave Blaise a rough pat on the shoulder and scurried off into a different section of the room, diving immediately into conversation with another group of guests. The two Slytherins were left stunned and silent in his wake.

"He's alright, I reckon," Blaise nodded. "Bit pompous, but chill."

"_I_ happen to think he's lovely," Daphne shot back.

"Into the older types, ey? Didn't take you for a gold-digger… explains Potter, though, now I'm thinkin' about it."

"Oh for…"

Daphne's voice descended into a growl. She turned away from him and grinded her teeth together to stop herself from saying something she'd regret. There was nothing that she could say that wouldn't end up getting turned back on her, people like Blaise were exactly the reason she'd had such a short temper recently.

Mercifully Astoria appeared by her side at that second and tugged on Daphne's sleeve.

"What?"

"Harry Potter keeps looking at you."

Her stomach twisted. Without the time to stop herself, her eyes instantaneously shot the other side of the room and were matched again with his. Though Harry looked away, Daphne tried, but couldn't manage it. It was harder this time. Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should have, and a giggle erupted from Astoria.

"Want me to go sort him out?"

That brought Daphne back into the room, and she turned around to see Blaise listening, though she couldn't quite call it eavesdropping, as they were stood right by him and Astoria had by no means spoken quietly.

"No, Yog Sothoth, Blaise!" she scolded him. "Just ignore him."

"What actually is the deal with you two these days anyway? Tracey says you decked him?"

Daphne pushed her chin out in annoyance.

"We broke up. That's all _anyone_ needs to know."

She huffed and crossed her arms, unwilling to give up anything more. Blaise nodded and raised his hands defensively, that same shit-eating grin still plastered across his face.

"I'm chill, don't worry! You wanna be a blood traitor, all good, whatever gets you off. Well-worth it for me to see the look on Draco's face."

Daphne felt her face flash red. Blaise was laughing, but when he caught sight of the look she was giving, he fell quiet.

"That was a joke… I was joking."

She took a step closer to him.

"Do not insult me in front of my little sister," she seethed through a clenched jaw. "Better yet, if you ever plan on continuing the Zabini bloodline, you'll never, _ever_ call me that again."

Blaise didn't answer, just gave a simple shrug and turned his back to her once more. He looked like he'd finally given up trying to 'mingle' with her and wandered away from their proximity, likely trying subtly to put some distance between himself and her.

Daphne's eyes returned to Harry. He was on his own right now, Ginny or Granger had been with him earlier, so she could only imagine they'd gone on a bathroom break together. This time, again, it was harder for her to pull her eyes away from him.

She had thought that by distancing themselves from each other, and limiting their time together to only what was mandatory during lessons, it would help them both move on one another. For the most part she was right, until she started noticing she had a growing a temper problem and then she realised the true impact that his absence was having on her. She had spent so long projecting her freedom onto him, and the good feelings that came with it, now that he was out of her life, no matter what she did she was still left with a Potter-shaped hole lingering over her.

Whenever he was back in her life, albeit it however briefly, she struggled forcing herself back into a place where he was absent from it.

She was fighting a loosing battle, but it was a ship she was determined to go down with.

"Stay here. Don't talk to anyone."

"Are you going to go talk to him!?"

"I said _stay_ here."

"Don't tell me what to do! Are you going to go hit him?"

Daphne hissed at her.

"Go talk to Ginny, then, you two will get along. Stay away from Cormac and Blaise, I'll be back."

Astoria looked like she had something else she wanted to say, but Daphne didn't give her the chance.

She turned away from her and crossed the room, coming up on Harry from behind. As she gained on him, her rising frustration suddenly turned to butterflies in her stomach. She didn't leave herself time to back out.

"Hello, Harry."

He span around instantly at the sound of her voice.

"Daphne?" he asked aloud, almost as if he didn't believe what his eyes were seeing.

"I just…"

Daphne took a breath.

"... wanted to clear the air between us. I'm sure you understand why I have been keeping my distance."

It took him a second to process her words. He frowned, then proceeded to pull all manner of ugly expressions before finally settling on a single one.

"I mean, I haven't a clue, frankly," he shot back with a very clear air of annoyance in his tone.

Daphne swallowed heavily.

She had acted on impulse, approaching him, and was now rapidly beginning to regret her decision. Seeing him stare at her like that, with nothing but confusion and contempt in his mind, was upsetting. The last time he'd looked at her like she had betrayed him to Professor Umbridge, albeit against her will, but it still dragged up all manner of unresolved feelings from that night.

"Well…"

She struggled, not actually knowing where she was going with this.

"... I don't have any hard feelings against you. I hope you know that."

"You know actually, I didn't know that?" he shot back again.

"Considering the last time we spoke you broke up with me out of nowhere."

She pushed the breath from her lungs.

"It wasn't out of nowhere, I explained my…"

A wash of anxiety punched her in the gut and she fell silent.

She wasn't going to argue with him. That wasn't what she was here to do, she was better than that. It was closure she needed right now, not a fight. It was a horrible thing she had to do to him, there was no denying that, but couldn't he see she was trying to make amends? She explained her reasons, why was he being so hostile to her?

"I didn't _want_-"

"Katie Bell was attacked, did you hear about it?"

Daphne frowned. She had recalled overhearing something about it, but hadn't had a conversation with anyone directly about it. What did that have to do with anything?

"A few of us think it was something to do with Malfoy."

She pursed her lips, confused.

"And?"

"Do you know anything about it?"

She shook her head, not as an answer, but out of confusion.

"What're you asking me?"

He sighed at her annoyance. If Daphne didn't know him he way she did, she would almost go as far as to say that by his tone and expression, he was accusing her of something right now.

"Why are you being like this, Daphne?"

She locked eyes with him. That time he'd spoken softer.

"Talk to me, please," he asked genuinely. "I don't care what's going on with you... just talk to me about it and I'll understand. I'll help, I'll do anything I can, I promise... You _know_ you can trust me."

The was a pleading tone in his voice and he had a puppy-dog face to match. His words hit her like a truck and she found herself wanting to answer every word of it, and yet none of it at the same time. He knew what she was going through, why was he putting her in this position?

Pushing through her rising unease, she tried answering.

"It's not a matter of trusting you, Harry... I'm just doing what I have to do. I don't owe you, or anyone else, any explanations for how I live my life. None of this is your fault, so I don't know why you keep bringing this back onto you. It's just the way the stars have aligned."

"The way the _stars_ have _aligned_? What are you _on_ about?" he shot back, again growing annoyed. "Nobody made you leave me and nobody is stopping you from talking to me, either! You made those choices yourself. I left my girlfriend for you, I lost friends because of you, thinking it'd all be okay if we just stuck together... But after all we went through last year, now you just suddenly decide to leave me behind! Do you think I'd be annoyed if I actually _knew_ what you were going through? But I don't, because you won't tell me anything about what's going on with you!"

It was like Daphne's world skidded to a sudden and rough halt.

The blood drained from her face. Her senses had frozen over and her body felt numb. All she could do was stare deep into those glaring eyes, unable to move. His words struck her like a knife to the heart.

Was that really how he felt? Like she'd abandoned him? How had he gotten that, she thought she made it obvious that she wasn't doing this out of her own free will?

She ended up forcing out the first words that came to her mind, if anything, just to keep him from speaking again.

"Harry… you don't know what my world looks like."

"Yeah, well, how could I?"

Daphne brought a hand over her mouth. She couldn't take hearing him talk this way to her. If it had been anyone else, her father, Pansy, Professor Snape, _literally_ anyone, she could handled it fine. But seeing the man that she'd gone through so much to be with, staring at her like _that_... She couldn't go through being a disappointment to another person she cared about, not again.

"It's over, Harry. I'm sorry for all the things I've done to mess you up."

Daphne breathed, her cool exterior now beginning to fail her.

"Really, I am. Goodnight."

"I don't _want_ sorry, Daphne, I want you!" he pleaded. "Just talk to me, I can help, we can get things back the way they were! Why is that so horrible?"

She couldn't bare it any longer. Daphne forced her eyes away from his.

"Whatever's going on with you, I promise I'll understand, just tell me!"

She broke their exchange. She turned and, her knees wobbling she walked back across the room the way she came. Keeping her eyes shut were just about the only thing she could do to keep herself from crying. She didn't dare look back, and doubted she could even if she tried.

"That looked like it went well."

Daphne's temper flashed.

"Astoria, I _swear_ to the old gods..."


	10. The Death Eater

Horace's party was over a week ago now, but Daphne couldn't stop replaying her interaction with Harry in her head.

It haunted her like a bad dream, and like a bad dream, she found herself kept coming back to it.

The first Quidditch match of the year was on tonight. The staff spent the day preparing for it and as such most of the castle mundane responsibilities were dumped onto the Head-Girl. Chaperoning first years, filing incident reports and overseeing all manners of things she normally never concerned herself with, by the time twilight began to set in Daphne had well and truly worked herself to the bone. Cramming herself into a crowded stadium and watching Harry for two hours was at the bottom of the long list of toxic things that she didn't want to put herself through right now.

So as the students drained out of the castle and towards the Quidditch Pitch, she took the opportunity to slip unnoticed back into the abandoned common room. Isolation, again, came as her saviour. She'd ran her social limit dry and deserved an early night. Today was one of her busiest yet, and wasn't helped by yet another sleepless night she'd had previous. She'd earned a break. She had earned the right to think about herself, nobody could take that from her.

Hugging her pillow tightly, she let out a troubled moan. Now came the tricky part. In truth, even isolation was no longer the sanctuary that it once was anymore.

Her nightmares had been getting worse.

Unspecific voices and blurry images, but always carrying an aura of dread. She never remembered them, only how they made her feel. They'd gotten worse since Horace's party and she knew why. She was a casualty in the civil war being fought between her brain and heart. It was a long list of losses, including her families respect, the little social-life that she had and now finally her own sanity was heading the same direction.

She couldn't take living this life much longer.

* * *

A white-hot, pulsating pain shot through her system. The scorching was unlike anything she'd ever experienced; it took her the better half of a full five seconds to figure out she wasn't in another nightmare, and the agony was coming from somewhere on her person.

She lashed out, but there was no one attacking her, and nothing around to help her. Just darkness on all sides, accompanied by a haunting screeching sound. Her body was convulsing, scrambling for help and only stopped when her head collided harshly into a wooden object. White dots danced in her peripheral. It was that shock to the system that made her realise the wailing sound she could hear were her own, demented cries. She focused in on the pain and tried to claw it out, but just ended up with a hand-full of bandages instead. The burning was coming from a lot deeper than just surface level.

Her wand. She needed her wand.

She flung herself back to where she thought her bed was, which was impossible to tell in the pitch black, to scramble across it. Her hand collided with the bedside table, knocking everything stationed atop of it across the room and involuntarily cracking her wrist and several knuckles with it. The pain of the impact was enough to distract her from the burning sensation on her arm, but that quickly wore off and another wash over of agony swept her system again.

Then suddenly there was a light. A beam of light, spreading out across the ceiling at an alarming rate and illuminating the room around her. Daphne realised that she was laying on her back and upside down. That, and she had company.

"UP! GET UP!"

Before she had time to acknowledge, Severus Snape was upon her. Daphne fought against him as the Professor attempted to wrestle her arm away from her. He won out and she felt his wand forced into her forearm.

The pain stopped.

A wave of relief hit her, pleasure like she had never experienced in her life, and she collapsed face-first onto her mattress.

"You've been summoned by the Death Eaters. Get dressed."

Despite it only being the two of them in her dorm, it took Daphne stupidly long to realise that he was addressing her. A weak mumble was all she could muster, and that was mostly said into her blanket

"UP! Do everything you're told, don't talk back to anybody and do _not_ question decisions that are made. Do whatever you must to get back alive, report to me _directly_ after all is done."

She shifted her head, only to get hit by the blinding light from the corridor behind him. She snatched a hand over her eyes, and it only just registered now how revealing her bed-clothes were. She seized the blankets from around her and pulled herself to the edge of her bed. She forced words from her throat, trying to demand an explanation, but again only gave a disorientated muttering.

"I've been... What…?"

"Greengrass, go! Everything will be explained to you there. Look after yourself."

There was a pleading in Professor Snape's tone that unnerved Daphne in a way she never thought possible. She was suddenly very much awake.

* * *

Her stomach churned and turned inside out and backwards, and then all at once, she was fine again.

She had just apparated independently for the first time. But that wasn't possible. She knew it wasn't. She was in her dormitory, nobody could apparate in or out of Hogwarts. This couldn't be a dream, could it? Her eyes leaked slowly over to her arm. No, this was no dream. The tattoo, the Death Eater's symbol of darkness, must also serve a practical use as a Portkey. It made sense that they had an ingenious way of evacuating or being summoned in emergencies. After taking a second to check her limbs were still in place, Daphne was almost impressed.

Her satisfaction was short lived, as it occurred to her exactly why she'd been brought here.

The Death Eaters summoned her? The only thing that sprung to mind this could be about was Harry, which she didn't enjoy considering how they'd respond to her recent developments. She was automatically at a disadvantage meeting on their terms, she had absolutely no time to prepare her argument or build herself up for it. That was it, wasn't it? She was in trouble with them, these were the consequences that Snape had been talking about and the bastard had still sent her here willingly. At Hogwarts she at least had temporary protection. If it hadn't been for the fact she was awake barely seconds before being sent here, she'd have fought more about coming. But then again, if the pain in her arm was what they could do to her at will… maybe it was best she if played it cooperative tonight.

That was it. Tonight she needed to be apologetic and grovelling. Just as the Professor said, she had to do and say whatever she needed to be let off the hook. There was no salvation for dead girls.

Now she had a mindset planned, she felt slightly better about the situation.

But it wasn't just that causing it though, as more and more things about her environment were suddenly beginning to jump out as familiar to her. She squinted through the darkness properly for the first time, and to her surprise, found herself back in the Greengrass Woodhouse.

Her heart leapt in her chest. Her father - if he was here, then it could provide a serious tactical advantage. Looking around it took her a few seconds to properly deduce which room she was in. She recognised it as the second drawing room, just down the hall from the first, where his office was. She dashed off in that direction, but as she pulled open the large door to the drawing room, suddenly halted in her tracks.

Three people - Death Eaters, she presumed - were already here and spaced out across the room. They glanced at her as she entered but otherwise didn't take much notice. More than that, they also didn't have their masks on, and she was able to recognise two of them as ones present during her initiation. The Death Eaters she knew, the Carrows, were beside the door she would need to go through to get to her father, so she quickly found herself abandoning that idea.

Not one to take a gift horse in vein, she straightened up her back and tried to look as natural as possible.

The room suddenly seemed very large around her as she moved inside and attempted to look busy. Nobody seemed hostile towards her right now, which she thanked her blessings for, and couldn't help the tiniest bit of hope that she was mistaken over the reason she'd been called here. There was a feeling of eerie unfamiliarity at seeing these people, capable of so much evil and death, in a room she'd spent her life growing up in. Whatever the reason they were here was, she had a sneaking idea that the others didn't know what it was either.

There was another Death Eater, a woman that she didn't know, lingering nearby. Daphne did a double-take of her. The woman, who on closer inspection didn't look too much older than her, seemed distinctly familiar, though Daphne swore they'd never met before. She was pretty, had piercing violet eyes - which she'd almost mistaken for red when she entered - and brown medium-length hair, but with a bizarre, badly bleached section on her fringe. It was such a peculiar hairstyle it was no wonder she stuck out to her, but nonetheless, Daphne also couldn't shake the feeling they had met before.

Unfortunately for her, her wandering eyes did not go unnoticed and she wasn't able to look away in time; now they stood staring at one another. Though her heart plummeted in her chest, but she didn't look away. It was all about nerves and honour with these people, she reminded herself. Yielding would make her seem weak. But the woman didn't seem interested in a staring contest and instead, just smirked.

"You're Benedict's kid, right?"

Daphne straightened up again. She was really doing this. She was having small-talk with a Death Eater. She could do this. She just needed to be the Ice Queen that she knew she could be. She cleared her throat, determined her first words as a Death Eater weren't to come out as a squeak.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass."

The woman's mouth broke into a smile, but her eyes narrowed into an intense gaze.

"I heard about you... You took over as the Witch-Prodigy after I left."

It took her a second for the words to register in her brain as a compliment, but by the time they did, the woman had already moved onto introducing herself.

"My name is Merula Snyde, you've probably heard of me. I was the greatest witch at Hogwarts in my time. Good to meet you."

She offered her hand which Daphne didn't delay in taking. Admittedly the woman's name rang absolutely no bells, but she feigned a smile regardless.

"A pleasure…"

She intended on saying more than that, but in the back of her head a voice was shouting at her these were not the people that she should be making friends with. Merula finished shaking her hand and moved off into the room, gesturing grandly around them.

"This is your place? It's fine, I guess. I was here for the Christmas-do last year... shame you couldn't make it."

"My sister was ill," Daphne said plainly, and then mumbled, "Family comes first."

She strained her brain to remember, but come to think of it, she did vaguely recall her father mentioning there was someone close to her age attending. How old was Merula? She was surprisingly young, didn't look more than thirty, which stuck out as odd, since she'd never seen any one of that niche age interested in the Death Eaters. She would have been a child when the Dark Lord originally vanished, so how had she gotten involved with things this time around?

Then, Daphne had a troubling discernment that not all people joined the cause because they were forced into it, some people joined because they _believed_ in it.

Their brief conversation was broken when the doors to the room opened and her father suddenly came bustling in, carrying arm-fulls of scrolls and papers and being tailed by a feeble rat-like man.

"Gather in, gather in!" he commanded.

He spilled the contents of his arms out onto the coffee table, and Merula and the Carrows were quick in filling in around him. Daphne was slower, as the sight of a pair of Death Eaters settling down on the couch that Astoria slept on had all but completely churned her stomach. She perched herself on the arm of a sofa, and saw the papers were full of detailed maps.

"This is the area you'll be raiding. They have protections up so you won't be able to apparate in. We'll give you coordinates that will get you as close as you can, but it'll be mostly guest work on your part. Once you've landed you'll have to go the rest of the way on foot, Carrows are going to approach from the north, Daphne and Snyde from the south. Both groups converge in the middle. They're not prepped for a land-attack so you should be able to walk straight through the defences. But be cautious. The first spell you cast will light up the entire countryside, so only cast when it becomes a last resort. We don't know how many Aurors are positioned there, Yaxley tells us at least four. For now, we're trying to keep a low profile, so avoid deaths if you can. Hostages are acceptable, but aim for knocking out. You're after this…"

He brought another, older-looking scroll out an unravelled it, revealing a sketch of a long, red-tinted weapon.

"...The Spear of Longinus. The Ministry got wind the Dark Lord wants it and they're trying to smuggle it out of the country. This is the last place it's going to be before it drops off the map completely. As soon as one of you have it, apparate back here immediately. Any questions?"

The Carrow man - Daphne didn't know first names - scoffed loudly.

"How can we apparate if they've got defences up?"

"It's a ward enchantment. One-sided in case of emergencies," her father pointed sternly at the map. "Getting out won't be a problem, getting in will be. It also means that if you're found out, the spear will be out of there in seconds... so don't get found out."

The whole time he had been explaining, Daphne had been aggressively trying to catch his line of sight. Not only hadn't she managed it, her father hadn't looked in her direction a single time, and she knew all too well why.

"If that'll be all? Move out in sync when you're ready."

Seemingly done with the briefing, her father jolted up from his seat. The wormy man beside him flinched in surprise. As the Carrows and Merula sealed around the maps he left them, Daphne jumped from her position and snaked her way around the back of the couches.

_"Daddy!"_ she whispered harshly.

Her father stopped in his tracks. He'd obviously been trying to get away from her quickly and failed. He turned around, an apprehensive look on his face.

"Yes… sweetheart?"

He smiled uneasily.

"I don't want to go."

She tried to keep her quiet, but the look she was receiving off the rat-looking man indicated he'd heard her. Her face was cold back at him, and eventually he shrunk feebly away from her glare. Her father looked like he desperately had something to say but was avoiding saying it.

"Stay behind Snyde," he said quietly, glancing at the others. "You'll be in and out like it's nothing."

Daphne opened her mouth to retort, but a sudden glare from her father caught the words in her mouth.

"Trust me, Daphne… You _need_ this going for you."

Those were his last words before turning back and disappearing through the same entrance he had come, with the rat-man scuttling after him.

She didn't enjoy the implication behind his words, but understood them all the same. He was giving her to make up for things. Word about the breakup without a doubt would have reached him and The Dark Lord, and now she'd been given this task to amend for her failure. It had probably taken her father a lot of grovelling to get her this chance, so she wasn't about to start entertaining such possibilities that she was completely off the hook yet.

Daphne turned back to the Death Eaters and took a difficult breath.

There was a lingering feeling in the back of her head that this whole time had been another nightmare. It wasn't. This was real life. It was just one job, she could do that. Just get through a few defences and get out unnoticed, that wasn't too difficult, it was a stealth mission, she wouldn't have to kill or torture anybody.

Muggles used to burn witches and wizards. Pure-blood wizarding families were a disappearing breed and magic itself was dying out because of it. Mudbloods were bastardising their already-dying culture. These weren't opinions, they were fact. She believed in the cause, that did not make her a bad person. Death Eaters were a means to an end, correcting a course that should have never been altered in the first place. She would do her part for the greater good. After she'd done it, she'd be back in her father's good books and have completed her purpose as a Death Eater. Then she could move on and leave the nasty business behind her, satisfied that she'd done her part.

Daphne was confident in her abilities, but her attempts to psych herself up were unsuccessful.

The Death Eaters moved to their positions and she hurried not to get left behind. The Carrows moved back to the corner of the room, bickering between themselves before holding hands and disappearing instantly in a quick snap. She knew how apparition worked in theory, just had yet to actually apply her knowledge to practice, and their lessons weren't scheduled to have them actually disapperating until after Christmas break.

Her eyes floated to Merula. She didn't know the woman, but already knew she'd rather be going with her than the Carrows. If her father, of all people, could vouch for her, then she would be sticking close by her side. She was far from a friend, but tonight she'd be a lifeline.

It took her a moment to realise Merula was staring questionably back at her. Daphne kept her face still.

"I've only just began my Apparition lessons... Could I join you?"

Merula snorted. It wasn't a joyous laugh and a sinking feeling struck Daphne in the gut.

"Yikes kid, they really snatched you up young didn't they?" she laughed at her. "What year are you even in?"

The corners of Daphne's mouth turned down.

"Fifth."

Merula laughed obnoxiously again, "You're what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen," Daphne clarified.

Even though the woman was laughing at her, Daphne knew it wasn't her age that she found funny.

"You can come with me. But, you owe me."

* * *

Wherever they landed mustn't have been too far off the Hogwarts grounds, though there wasn't a hint of snow around them, the wind was equally as harsh and cold as it were in that region. She responded to the apparition better than she had last year, and was actually able to keep on her feet as they landed. The grass reached her knees and from what she could tell through the dark, they'd landed in a hilly field somewhere. There wasn't a single light on the horizon and the sky above them was clouded over, she felt disoriented as she struggled to differentiate what darkness was what.

"Put your mask on, idiot!" Merula's voice came out muffled.

Daphne lifted the silver-ornament in her hands. Her father had left his own out for her, she didn't know why she didn't get her own, but definitely wasn't about to start complaining about it. As she secured it over her face she found the visibility much better than expected, in fact, the inside of the mask was completely-see through. If it wasn't for the fact she could feel it on her face, she wouldn't have even guessed she was wearing anything.

"Half a mile, that direction."

Merula began moving in front of her, Daphne pushed through the weeds to keep up with her.

Now they were moving into the wind, the cold was getting at her more. They had no shelter and with winter on the horizon, the baggy cloaks only did so much to shield her from the elements. It had either rained or snowed here recently, she hadn't noticed it before, but now she could tell how wet the grass was they were wading through. She thanked the old-god that she had the sense to wear leggings under her robes, but despite this, within minutes she was shivering - and apparently wasn't the only one.

"Can't believe they're making us walk this far. Who the hell do they take us for?" Merula grumbled.

Daphne didn't know if the question was rhetorical, but kept silent. As they ventured into the field, her eyes began processing more of the dark around them. They had landed on one of several hills that seemed to curve together around a valley. Daphne didn't know specifically what they were looking for, but doubted the Aurors would be defending the item they were after out in the open. It was probably being held at some kind of safe house inside the valley, which was why they were heading deeper in.

Daphne shivered bitterly and pulled her robes closer around her. She had been hoping as they descended into the valley and onto lower ground that the wind would die a little, but if anything, the hills must have created a wind tunnel, because it now felt stronger than before. Her fingers had gone numb around her wand; if they were attacked right now she'd probably be powerless to defend herself. The only thing breaking up the time was the occasional muddy-sinkhole that she'd almost lose a boot in, or an unexpected rock that she'd knock against. She didn't know how long they'd been walking for, but Greengrass Woodhouse suddenly felt hours ago.

"Your father says you're a good duellist, that will be handy. We'll look out for each other, alright? I've got your back."

Merula's proclamation broke the silence and had come seemingly from nowhere, but Daphne wasn't going to question it.

"Thank you."

Daphne gave her answer sincerely, but doubted it actually came across that way.

They finally reached the bottom of the incline and took to moving through the valley. The grass was higher here and there were more puddles, Daphne deduced in the summertime the valley was likely a swamp-front, but was now a frozen wasteland instead. It would sincerely help her to know if they were in a magical area of the country or not, come to think of it, should she be expecting an Imp or a Welsh Green Dragon to come barrelling at them through the darkness?

She briefly thought about asking Merula, but immediately abandoned that idea. Daphne wasn't scared of her but was very cautious about staying on her goodside.

There was still nothing on the horizon, which was beginning to trouble her. Even in this dark they should be able to make out some kind of outline of a building. Which could only mean either they were still a long way off or the spear had better protection than they thought. Neither possibility thrilled her in this cold.

The longer they were walking towards nothing the more she found herself doubting her words of encouragement earlier. She was way in over her head, but she had to follow it through. It didn't matter if she was here with good intentions, unlike the rest of them, she was still committing a crime with known-Death Eaters. It was Azkaban, plain and simple, even her father couldn't protect her from that.

She was a Death Eater. Daphne Greengrass was a Death Eater… somehow, the reality of that was only striking her now. Her trudging forward got slower, keeping close to Merula, but now maintaining a sensible distance between them

"So, you're shagging Harry Potter, right?"

Daphne's mouth fell limply open.

How did she even respond to that? Technically, yes, but actually no? Was she asking if they were together, or if they had… if they'd actually...

"_Disgusting_ what they have us doing," Merula answered for her. "Wouldn't be that way if I were in charge... I'd treat us Death Eaters with the respect we actually deserve."

She stomped a foot in frustration, which just splashed mud back up her leg. She either didn't notice, or pretended not to, and carried on sloughing through the wetland. Daphne stifled a nod.

That was the first she'd heard of anyone on the Death Eater's side talk bad of the Dark Lord.

"Don't talk much, do you?"

For once, Daphne finally had a good answer for her.

"I talk _too_ much."

Merula let out an obnoxious cackle. It was almost reminiscent of the cheeky laughs Tracey would have at her expense.

"Smart kid."

Then suddenly - as soon as second she'd finished her sentence, the pair of them were struck by a blinding light meters ahead of them. A heavenly firework, brighter than the sun itself, ascended into the heavens. It lit up the entire environment around them like it were mid-day, and completely clouded Daphne's vision..

_"Down! Down!"_

Merula - she presumed - snatched her by the sleeve. She hit the ground head-first, the sludge squelching beneath her Daphne and was now extremely thankful she'd been warned to put on the mask. She tore her head up from the mud and cursed.

About twenty-meters ahead there was an old worn-down shack, now lit up like Christmas Day and a horrific alarm blaring from it.

"Carrows sprung the trap, those dirty-!"

A red jolt - impossibly fast - shot from the house and collided with Merula, launching her from her crouch and sending her flailing backwards through the air. She didn't even hit the ground before a dozen more spells came hurtling in their direction, and Daphne saw multiple Aurors descending on them out of the shack.

She forced herself into the mud. An explosion went off nearby, somewhere behind the shack, and she saw a flinging of bodies through the air. Her eyes were still adjusting to the fireworks, black spots and moving figures danced in and out of her vision. There was a battle going on close-by, probably between the Carrows and the Aurors, but she could only discern such from the sound of castings and impacts.

She should have fought harder about coming here, she should have put up any real kind of resistance - done _anything_ she could have to not come.

She had absolutely no intention of getting into a duel with any Ministry Aurors tonight. The Spear of Longinus meant nothing to her, and if the mission was already botched and then it wasn't her fault. She'd sooner turn up empty handed than end up beaten and broken in Azkaban. Her only escape was lying about five meters behind her, and god knows if she was in any state to apparate them out.

Daphne threw herself backwards and began scrabbling back the way she came through the mud. She wasn't as subtle as she'd hoped; a second jolt of the bright-red lightning shot over her shoulder. She cursed again under her breath. The light in the sky let her just about make out the fallen form of Merula. As she closed in on her, the Death Eater began to stir.

"Those… sons of... " she mumbled groggily.

_"Get us out! Right now!"_

Merula pulled herself onto her stomach and then tried struggling to her knees.

"We need… to get… the spear..."

Daphne snatched Merula by the shoulder and dragged her back into the safety of the grass.

_"We need out! Apparate us!"_ she snapped.

A new noise entered the scene, standing apart from the explosions and shouting. Daphne looked up to see white-plumps of smoke streaking across the sky. She recognised them as the same, if not similar, to the ones from the Battle of the Department of Mysterious.

The grass gave them shelter from the Aurors on the ground, but here they were in plain sight. Daphne tried to pull Merula into a lower position, but too late, the plums of smoke were already soaring towards her. Daphne struck her wand into the air.

_"BOMBARDA!"_

That was her usual go-to spell. It was destructive and disorientating, usually providing a good distraction for a get-away. But the Aurors simply dove around the spell and it exploded-mid air, doing nothing but spacing them out a bit more.

One of the flying Aurors, Daphne couldn't tell which one, cast in their direction, and it was only her movement-memory that allowed her to summon a shield charm in time. This kicked off a barrage of spells from different directions, she was quickly out-numbered a dozen to one and her shield fell. A Flipendo took her in the chest. Her neck snapped forward and her body smashed into Merula. Daphne landed miserably in the mud, wheezing miserably.

Merula jabbed her wand into the sky beside her.

_"CRUCIO!"_

Whether she had very good aim, or just dumb luck, her spell collided with the Auror and the plume of the smoke covering them vanished, leaving behind a suffering man on a broom, who smashed into the ground a few meter's away from them.

Daphne gritted her teeth against a sudden tightness in her chest. She tried to follow suit and flailed her wand in the air, shouting a spell, but it just disappearing into the cloudy sky. Another spell, again she hadn't seen where it'd come from, almost collided with her shoulder, but now she was able to catch a good sight of the Aurors above her. There were four of them, each covered in a white plume of smoke, circling her and Merula.

Merula seemed to have somewhat recovered from her stunning and struggled to her feet. Daphne tried to snatch her back down, but dove in the way of a spell instead.

_"Protego!"_

The shield charm covered her and Merula and deflecting the on-coming curse. Merula snapped her wand around and shouted another unforgivable at the Auror, which again, collided on target. The Auror's light vanished and they fell from their broom. Daphne taking a split-second to watch the body fall was enough for another spell to come hurtling in their direction.

_"Protego!"_

This time it was Merula who cast the protection around them, and she knew what that meant. She aimed her wand at a spiralling plume of smoke but then paused. She was unable to bring herself to cast a truly harmful incantation. She yelled, a tickling-charm hit its target and sent an Auror falling from their broom, laughing the whole way to the floor.

Merula sent a glare her way, but she met her with a harsher one.

"APPARATE US!"

"We can take them!"

Merula swung her wand around and cast a series of charms that Daphne didn't recognition which then shot out like electricity from her wand and jumped between the two sky-born Aurors, sizzling them, quite literally, like lightning. They stumbled through the air briefly, before joining their brothers crashing into the mud.

Her single spell had taken both of them down. Outside from the distant rumblings of battle and the ball light hanging obviously above them, the sky was now still and free of Aurors.

Daphne had never seen that spell before, Merula was, without a doubt, truly as powerful of a witch as she had claimed to be.

_"Stupefy!"_

A curse came over her shoulder and hit Merula square in the chest. It must have been from one of the Aurors on they had grounded or one from the house had found them, but either way, Daphne didn't wait to find out. She spun on her heels and cast a protective charm, the same second another spell came colliding into it. The shield was barely cast in time and the resulting impact blew back on her.

The air was forced from her lungs and suddenly there was double of everything. She stumbled drunkenly backwards before tripping over Merula's unconscious figure. Her knees gave way and she landed on her back with a splash.

_"Incarcerous!"_

Daphne didn't stop moving when she fell, and rolled to the side, just in time to have the curse splatter into the mud next to her.

_"Depluso!"_

She succeeded in hitting the Auror in the leg, but she had been aiming for their chest. Nonetheless it did its job, and with a stomach-churning crack, the Aurors leg shattered beneath him and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Daphne didn't wait. She grasped the grass around her and launched herself into a run.

She didn't know where she was going. She had no destination. Just that she needed to get away. She had spells coming over her shoulder, but there were less shouts than before. She took that as the Carrows had been taken down as well. Which meant she was the last one standing. She didn't plan on stopping to make sure.

She was going quick as her legs would carry her, which was difficult in this bog, but her years of recreational runs were finally paying off. Her lungs begged against her, and that tightness in her chest was now the foremost thing in her mind. She moved deeper into the grass and away from the shine of the alarm. The extra cover would give her a better chance at escaping, or at least finding somewhere to hide until this was all over. If there was any shelter nearby, anything that she could use to disguise herse-

An impact hit her and Daphne's vision went black.

* * *

The world was very still to her. The only sound discernible to her now was her own wheezing breaths. The entire world around her had fallen silent, as though she was the only living being in it. The spell hit her in just the right place, her legs had kept going and her spine bent backwards, she landed in a roly-poly position and there was now an overpowering taste of pennies in her mouth.

Her entire body was numb, but pulsating pain echoed around her system.

The first thing that came back to her was the cold. She licked her lips and swallowed, getting another hit of dirty pennies and winced. She let out a violent cough, blood spluttered from her mouth and onto the inside of the mask she'd forgotten she was wearing. The second thing that came back was a thumping beating in her head. First it started off in the distance, then gradually it got closer. It was the rhythmic thumping of her own heartbeat. Each thump flared the whiteness in her vision and put her head closer to the point she was sure it was going to burst.

She could see the sky above her now. No stars, just clouds. She decided to dare a glance back in the direction she came. Though upside-down, she could tell the small shack was now a burning fire, and there was a cavalry of white plumes landing around it. At least six Aurors were wading through the grass in her direction.

"STAND! LOWER YOUR WAND AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

She tried slowly to pull herself up.

All around her, pain flared. Her chest contracted, tightening around her lungs to where she couldn't breathe. She stabled her hand against a sunken rock. Wand hand raised, she dragged herself weakly to her feet.

There was no escape. She had to fight for every breath. Her heartbeat was pounding in her head. Running wasn't an option anymore, and trying to on this terrain was useless, every step her boots sank more into the mud. Under her breath she tried to summon a broom to her, one of the Aurors, but nothing came of it. The pain had caught her up and now her adrenaline had ran out, it was over.

Everything must have happened from arrival to the attack within the space of an hour, but it felt like seconds ago she was still at home.

She longed for her dormitory.

For the common room.

For Tracey. And for Harry.

An important-looking Auror, a Ministry-member, approached her. Daphne's eyes gazed over the horizon and could distantly make out the figure of Merula being seen to other Aurors. The Carrows were nowhere to be seen.

"Remove your mask and hand over your wand."

One last-ditch attempt at freedom danced in her mind. It was a long shot. It was practically impossible and extremely dangerous. But, then again, thinking of the consequences she'd receive from this night… life wouldn't be worth living if she stayed here.

Her hands dropped from the air and with her hand pointed at Merula.

_"CARPE RETRACTUM!"_

A sticky orange-yellow substance erupted from her wand and latched onto Merula's fallen form. Daphne closed her eyes and concentrated.

Where was she right now? She was in a field, somewhere in the UK. That much she knew, but not much else. Where did she need to be? That was unimportant, so long as it was safe. Where did she know that was safe? She knew lots of places, but needed just one.

Somewhere safe, anywhere safe...

She opened her eyes, and the last thing she saw as the world drained away from her was the Ministry man diving towards her.

The world melted away and she doubled the grip on her wand. The next thing she knew she was falling in all directions. A feeling shot through her that was so bad, for a second it didn't even register as pain. It registered as something, a feeling, not a tingle, more like a blank space, and when that feeling died down into actual pain, only then did she gasp. Her body was screaming at her, but Daphne was forced her mind set straight.

Somewhere safe. Somewhere safe.

Her lungs were being crushed and the air was snatch viciously from her lungs. Up was down and left to right was inside and outside, the whole while she kept calm, despite her struggles, and regulated her breathing.

Then she hit the concrete.

The murk cleared and the air was still. The smell of grass had vanished. There was a blinding sterile light above her. The field had gone, they were now in some kind of underground station. Her eyes stung.

A blood-curdling scream brought her to her senses.

"YOU SPLINCHED ME!"

Daphne turned around and the room span. She steadied herself against the cold tile-wall. Merula was with her, but on the ground in the fetal position, screaming curses at her. She was cradling a bloody hole in her leg, which was bleeding out onto the concrete.

She collapsed to her side, mostly intentionally, and started at the woman's leg.

"Let me see! Let me see it!"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!"

Daphne clawed Merula's hand away from the wound and shakily, raised her wand above it. She was a Medical Curse-Breaker in training, she knew just what she needed to do.

_"Episkey!"_

Her spell was cast, and although it worked and a certain amount of the blood returned inside the wound, it didn't have quite the effect she was hoping for. She cast it again, and again it left a small improvement, but not enough to heal the leg. Merula's shouting finally faded out, which she took as a good sign. That was, until she caught the woman's face.

_"They're… with us…"_

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she passed out on the floor. Daphne didn't make any moves to help her, her mind was suddenly distracted.

The Auror, the official-looking Ministry man, had grabbed onto her. That was why she'd botched the spell and splinched Merula. But that meant...

A sharp noise whizzed by her head and Daphne dove quickly to the side. A curse collided into the tile-wall and exploded, showering debris over them.

At the end of the tunnel a red-faced Auror had appeared, and the red wasn't frustration, it was blood. Another Auror fell into the scene behind him, looking equally as wound-up but in much better shape. She had transported all four of them when she'd disapperated, no wonder it had ended with splicing.

There was little left in her that could fight. She stabbed her wand into the air and screamed gutterally.

_"BOMBARADA!"_

Meters from her, the underground tunnel was shattered in all directions. The acoustics turned what would have been a small crash into a thunderous bang, like a strike of lighting. The sound waves hit her system like a physical blow and she tumbled to the wall. There were yells and screams around her from the Aurors, but she didn't stop to help.

With strength coming from the-old-Cthulu-knows-where, she hurled Merula's arm over her shoulder and took off in the opposite direction. The Death-Eater was a dead-weight on her arm, totally knocked out and her feet dragging limply behind them. Daphne couldn't even be said to be running; she used her hands, feet and everything in her power to move them as quickly as she could. There was an open entrance at the other end of the tunnel.

That meant escape or shelter and she wasn't arsed which one.

Her feet were screaming in agony and there was blood in her mouth, but she was so close. Even with Merula slowing her down, in no-time Daphne reached the entrance and stumbled out onto a thin road.

_"Flipendo!"_

Another impact in her back sent her careening forwards. She felt every crunch in her back as she was sent mid-air across the road, Merula still attached, and colliding chest-first into a wooden fence. A noise escaped her that Daphne would never have guessed could have come from her lips, much less a human being. Clenching her teeth, she couldn't stop now. There were footsteps gaining on her. Every inch of her body nagged in protest, and now there was a definite delay in her actions as she tried to move.

Gasping quick breaths, she regained her surroundings as best she could. Her nostrils were suddenly filled with the scent of wet earth and she could hear running water. There was a river nearby, on the other side of the fence, in fact. She could see it distantly, or could see lights reflected in its surface.

She used the sleeve of her robes to wipe her mouth. To her disgust, a trail of her own blood stained spit came away with it. She tightened her grip on the fence, and was able to lift herself a few inches off the ground. Her arms, her legs, hell, her entire body screamed in against it. Her stomach twisted and contorted, rebelling as though it was about to liquefy. Using her body this way caused the thumping in her head to return louder than ever. She scrunched up her face and swore loudly.

Mild panic swept her system as the fence began to tremble under her weight. But she succeeded in lifting herself off the ground and was then able to drag a knee up over the fence. The pain in her head felt like she was being struck with a hammer. She was swung the rest her weight over the top and lowered her feet onto the ground. She gasped her next breath, ignoring the burning sensation coming from her throat. Once she was securely over the fence, she took to grabbing the unconscious Merula by the shoulders and trying to drag her over.

Just as she did, the messed-up Auror and his partner found their way clear of the tunnel and didn't waste time in spotting them. Gritting her teeth, and with an animalistic noise, Daphne pulled on Merula with all the strength she could manage.

There was a harsh snapping sound, Merula was suddenly free and they were both falling through darkness.

* * *

_A/N Yes, I know Apparition only works if you know exactly where you are going, I'm going somewhere with this, I promise. Would definitely appreciate some thoughts on this chapter, worked really hard and I'm fairly certain it's the longest chapter in the series._

_And yes, this is where the story will begin to take bigger departures from canon. Ten points for anyone who tells me where Merula is from._


	11. Captain's Parley

Harry reeled around, showing the snitch held tightly in his hand.

"YES!"

Through the snow it took the crowd around him a second to realise what had happened, then a great shout went up, almost drowning out the whistle signifying the end of the game. The Gryffindor team landed at the centre of the pitch and met in joyous embraces while the onlookers shrieked and laughed.

The Slytherin team landed a second later and were less enthusiastic to say the least.

Harry dismounted his broom and met Ron with a hug; he nights spent playing Quidditch with Fred and George had finally paid off, it had been his last-minute save that kept them leading in the finale round. The team piled around the Weasley, slapping him on the back and dragging him into group hug. Even Ginny seemed reluctantly impressed by her brothers performance, and gave him a rough but playful punch on the shoulder.

Though the night sky was dark, the crowd was still visible going wild around them. The Gryffindor team stomped through the snow arm-in-arm, punching the air and waving up at the supporters. This match had started in the freezing cold and with miserable faces, but then ended with adrenaline-pumping cheers.

As Harry entered the changing rooms, his smile was tingling and the atmosphere inside was jubilant.

"PARTY UP IN THE COMMON ROOM, SAMUS SAID!" Dean yelled.

The fastest he had ever seen, his team members were changed and gone in seconds. Ron and Harry were the last two in to leave, and just as they neared their exit, Hermione entered, twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looking troubled.

"I would like a word, Harry."

He turned instantly, moving away to straighten the lines of brooms his teammates left behind. Or at least, that's what he appeared to be doing.

Really it was so neither of them would see his shit-eating grin. He had been deliberately delaying getting changed to prepare for this exact moment.

"What about?" he asked innocently.

"You know perfectly well what about!" Hermione partially shrieked. "You spiked Ron's drink! You could be kicked off the team for cheating! The entire match could be disqualified!"

"Yeah…" He turned back to face them both, now grinning broadly, "... except, only, I didn't."

"Yes, you did, Harry! That's why there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!"

He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and brought out the same tiny bottle of Liquid Luck that Hermione had seen him with that morning.

"I needed Ron to _think_ that I had, so I faked putting it in when I knew you'd be there. I was going to tell you later but didn't get a chance."

It wasn't lying, he was just influencing the situation. There was nothing morally wrong about that. He double checked with Sirius first.

He looked at Ron and smiled.

"That was all you out there, mate. Everything was you."

Ron stared back at him in disbelief.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" he asked, astonished. "But the weather… and Malfoy couldn't play… you honestly haven't given me anything?"

He shook his head, still grinning. Ron gaped at him for a minute and then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice.

"_Ughh, you spiked Ron's juice this morning, that's why he was good! _See, I can save goals _without_ your help, Hermione!" he shot back in a surprisingly passive aggressive tone.

Hermione groaned.

"I never said you _couldn't_, Ron! I just thought on principal -"

Ron barged past her and left the room abruptly, with his broomstick over his shoulder and still in partial-uniform.

He left behind a startling silence in his wake; the adrenaline pumping atmosphere of the match now gone from the room.

Harry's mouth dropped from his smile and fell open uselessly. That definitely hadn't been the reaction he was hoping for.

"What was… that about?" he asked into the silence.

"Nothing..."

Hermione blinked back sudden tears from nowhere.

"I am just so _sick_ of Ron at the moment."

"Right… "

An awkward silence lingered around them, and Harry was suddenly very aware of his own breathing. He hadn't expected his plan to backfire like this, and suddenly felt there was something critical that he was as of yet, not informed of.

"Has something... happened between you guys? I know we don't get to talk as much anymore… is everything okay?"

Hermione groaned again, this time directed at him.

"You _really _don't know what you've just done, do you Harry?" she spat.

Before he had a chance to answer, she stormed out of the changing room and left the door to slam shut behind her.

It took him a full ten seconds of just standing there to properly process what had just happened. Ron and Hermione were all but practically seeing each other during the summer. Sure, now he only ever got to see them during breakfast or an occasion lesson, but what the hell could have happened in his absence to make them be at each others throats? And, pray tell, what had he just made worse?

Now troubled, and debating if he should make a break to go after Hermione, Harry's movements were slower as he returned to stripping his uniform off. He suddenly didn't feel like going to any party anymore.

His thoughts were that clouded deciphering his friends actions that he didn't notice the changing room door open and close again behind him.

"_Very_ nice."

It was a voice he recognised, but that did nothing to stop him flinching out of his skin at the sound of it. He dragged his Quidditch uniform across his bare chest.

"You shouldn't be here!"

"And why not?" Tracey smirked, leaning back against a storage box. "Scared I might see somethin' I'll like?"

"What do you want?!" Harry snapped back, still shielding his bare chest.

She broke broke into an obnoxious cackle of laughter.

"Calm down, I wanted to congratulate you! Your team just won, mate!"

Harry felt his muscles untense.

"Yeah… erm, you guys did great, as well…"

Tracey laughed, lulling her head to the side.

"Not good enough, clearly! But it's fine... we're goin' up Hufflepuff in May, we still have a chance to wipe the floor with them."

While she was talking, Harry quickly dragged his school shirt over his head. Her wandering eyes didn't go unnoticed by him. He let out an uncomfortable cough, the room suddenly very warm around him.

"Don't let one loss get you down," he said, more attentively. "That triple no-handed loop-de-loop you did was incredible."

"Oh, you _flatter _me!"

Harry finished dressing himself and sat on an old storage box, opposite her, to tie together his shoelaces. The second he settled down, however, Tracey bounded herself up and took a seat next to him.

"So why aren't you celebrating with the rest?" she asked, now a lot more closer.

Harry breathed out.

"I think I might have just…" he paused to consider his wording, "... messed up something."

"Wanna talk about it?"

He bit his lip.

"Not particularly. Thank you."

"That's cool. Hey, mind if I get changed in here?"

"Well, actually…"

Tracey bounced up and before he knew it, he was staring right at the girls nude back.

Choking on his words, he quickly averted his eyes. Blood pumped into his cheeks and other places. Why did this girl always enjoy making him uncomfortable? Tracey gave a knowing chuckle at his expense.

"You know, I'd be up there partyin' with 'em if I was you!" she said, just out of Harry's peripheral. "Just because you're Captain doesn't mean you shouldn't also have some _fun_."

There was a dip in her tone that Harry decided he didn't like. What was she playing it? Did she take pleasure from teasing him like this? Was this another one of her games or was she genuinely trying to instigate something? And why, probably the foremost question in his mind, was she always so difficult to read?

He never had this problem with Hermione or Cho, but with Daphne and Tracey, they always seemed to have total control of the situation whenever they spoke. They definitely earned their place in Slytherin house.

"Everyone's celebrating with Ron…" he mumbled, "... he deserves tonight more than me."

"Oh, how noble of you, _proud_ Gryffindor!"

His hands shot to his collar. He thought he'd just done it up too tight, but no, his difficulty breathing was nothing to do with his shirt.

"Are you just here to tease me, or do you actually want something?" he finally stammered out.

He felt a presence beside him and, cautiously, turned his head back. Tracey was, thankfully, now fully in her uniform and stood by his side.

"Both. Get dressed and meet me outside, mm'kay?"

* * *

Stepping into the cold night air, Harry didn't realise how thankful he was to be out of that changing room. Tracey marched out of the room behind him, and then took the lead, surprisingly, not up towards the castle, but back onto the Quidditch pitch

"Where are we going?"

"For a walk. Might be a while."

Still feeling vastly out of his comfort zone from whatever Tracey just tried to pull, he couldn't find it in him to argue with her. He followed suit behind the girl.

Incredibly, the audience of the Quidditch game had drained out in no time. Left behind was a large feeling of emptiness, which was aided by how small the two were compared to the overall size of the pitch.

Their ears were full of a natural chorus; wind, the snow crunching beneath their feet and the occasional indistinguishable splash from the black lake. If his heart wasn't still pounding from the game he'd just played, he'd almost call the atmosphere serene.

"So… what's up?"

"We need to talk about Daffy."

He nodded, an unintentional sigh escaping his lips.

"Of course we do..."

"You guys had an argument, right? That's what Blaise is saying."

Her tone had shifted yet again. Now she was talking with her serious voice. It was the same one she used when talking about Malfoy and Daphne last time. It seemed to be coming from a completely different person than the one who'd just been teasing him in the changing rooms.

"Yeah, the other week, at Slughorn's party."

"What'd she say?"

Harry thought for a second. His mind was still alive with the Quidditch game, Ron and Hermione, and whatever Tracey had just put him through. A lot had happened that night, which was over a week ago. A lot of it blurred together, and not a lot of it made sense in words.

"Not much, really…" he tried. "I think she was just trying to clear the air. Told me she didn't have any hard feelings…"

"What did you say back?"

"I told her she was mental for leaving me and I deserved more than that."

Tracey winced, taking in a sharp inhale of breath, then letting out a slow cackle.

"Yeah… that'll… that'll make her mad."

"I didn't _mean_ to," he sighed, "I was annoyed and came on too strong… What is it you want to talk about?"

Tracey fell quiet for a second and he stared at her. She didn't look back at him.

The sound of snow crunching beneath was now loud in his ears. He was thankful for the adrenaline still in his system to keeping him warm. As they began to approach the centre of the pitch and the stands began disappearing into the darkness, she began to slow. He didn't know where she was leading him, or if she was truly leading him anywhere.

"Did you get to speak to her about the necklace?"

Harry nodded and rubbed his neck.

"I tried but she wasn't having it… and I didn't really think she was anything to do with it, anyway."

"You don't?"

"No. I don't think she's malicious like that. Not her style."

"Well, _you've_ never seen her in a fight."

She laughed at her own joke, but Harry didn't see the humour in it.

"Do _you _think it was her?"

Tracey shot him an ugly grimace.

"Absolutely not, don't be stupid!"

Then, less passionately, she said, "But I had to be sure and I'm not exactly gonna ask her that myself."

So, he was set up then.

It was Harry's turn to scowl at her.

"Oh gee, thanks!"

"What? She's already mad at you, you've got nowt to lose!"

Though he smiled in response, he still didn't quite feel to laughing.

"But no, I'm not worried it was Daphne," he explained. "I'm worried about who it _was_. Malfoy, almost definitely."

"You and him really don't get on, do you?"

"Do _you_?"

"Well, no, but still… He's a dick, he just never struck me as _that_ kind of dick. Daphne's always been edgy with her politics but she's not a bad person... Can't really say I see enough of Draco to really say. We barely have any lessons together. Nobody sees him in the common room, anymore. I don't think we've had a full-on conversation since last year."

Tracey spoke dismissively of him, like this suddenly wasn't a serious matter, but her words did nothing but fuel Harry.

"You don't see him around the common room?"

"I mean, not really, but I can't say I've been lookin'. Barely any of us actually like him, anyway, it's just easier being his friend than his enemy. Why? Is that important?"

Harry thought careful about her words and nodded.

"Maybe. He's up to something, I know he is. I'm just scared Daphne is involved with it."

"Thought you said you didn't think she gave Katie the necklace?"

"I don't, but I _do_ know there's something going on she's not telling me."

Tracey gave a stifled laugh and moved her hands into her pockets.

"_That_ we can agree on… "

She looked up, blissfully into the sky. They had long reached the middle of the pitch and at this point had taken to gently wandering around the same patch of grass in conversation.

She took out her wand and cast a charm over a section of the snow, which sizzled out for a second before becoming completely dry. She plonked herself onto the grassy patch and gestured to the spot beside her.

"I was raised with Daphne, I know when she's hiding somethin'. Her problem is that she thinks she's a lot smarter than she actually is. With books, you know for sure, I'll give her that, but not with life. She and Astoria got the looks, but I got the brains in there."

Harry nodded.

"Definitely wouldn't have guessed you guys were related. You're very…"

"Yeah?"

He elected to keep his choice of wording gentle.

"Different. Not bad, just different."

Tracey threw her head back in a chuckle.

"I'm the black sheep, you can say it!" she half-cheered. "To Astoria, I get to be the cool Aunt... even though we're not actually related. But then compared to Daphne I'm just, well… you know! Daphne is Daphne! She's tall, gorgeous, talented. And then there's little 'ol me. I was raised muggle-born, so that probably answers a lot of questions for you."

If Harry hadn't had already been sat down, he'd have struggled to keep on his feet.

"_You're_ muggle-born?"

Tracey noticed his sudden reaction.

"No, God no!" she laughed, raising her arms defensively. "But Mum is."

It took Harry another second to connect the dots in his mind.

"Daphne's _mum_ is muggle-born!?"

"She never _told _you?"

Tracey finally ceased laughing and stopped to consider herself.

"Mind you, I can understand why... It doesn't actually affect her bloodline, and it's pretty easy to get targeted for things like that."

Harry's mouth bobbed open and closed.

How had he and her not spoken about this before? Daphne never outwardly mentioned her mother to him, but you'd think that a Slytherin having a muggle-born parent would surely have come up in conversation at some point? He just presumed she and her were not on good terms and that's why she never mentioned her, but was that why? Did Daphne resent her mother for being muggle-born?

"Hey, if you want one hell of a roller-coaster ride, make Daffy tell you the story of how her dad ended up knockin' up a muggle-born chick! Hard-right fell for hard-left! You guys would probably have a lot in common!"

Harry shook his head in incredulity.

"I don't get it, how is she… how does she…"

Tracey held a hand up in silence, as she began to give Harry his much-needed context.

"I'm _technically her_ older sister by a few months, but don't bring that up 'cause she hates it. Our mum had us with different blokes. She left my dad for her dad. They lived together for a bit then split, she kept me and Daphne's dad took her. Mum and her don't really get on now. Or her and anyone, actually. She's lovely, but... a bit of an acquired taste. So yeah, that's why me and Daffy are so different. It's also why she's always been a bit iffy on the blood purity thing, her dads influence, I reckon... I've never really seen the point in it. She's not problematic with it, though. I mean she has no problem with Blaise, or me being bisexual, so it doesn't really come up in conversation."

Harry considered the girl in subject. He was learning so much about Daphne within one night. For the first time this year she was no longer just a source of burden in his mind, now she had returned, however briefly, to a point of curious interest. It was a long time since he thought about Daphne without a sweeping of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He brought his knees up to his chin.

"She hasn't spoken to me in months… I _still _don't know why she's mad at me…"

Tracey let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Harry… We both know she's not _actually _mad you."

"She isn't?"

"What?"

"You just said she isn't mad at me, why isn't she?"

"Oh, I thought you - okay!"

Tracey struggled with her words suddenly. She brought a hand up to scratch the top of her beanie, and if Harry couldn't tell any better, he'd say she was intentionally avoiding his eye-line.

"It's not really what you say out loud but… ah, well, as far as I can figure out; Daphne had gotten involved with some _not-very-nice_ people. She's practically admitted that much. Whether it's her choice or not, I can't tell, but I doubt it was. She's not like that, like I said. But yeah, I very much doubt she left you 'cause she _wanted_ to."

Despite this, realistically, not being news to Harry and just confirming all the thoughts he'd already been having, hearing it come from another person's mouth still hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Death Eaters?" he asked quietly, his breath barely a whisper.

Tracey rubbed the base of her neck awkwardly, now looking the most unsettled he'd ever seen her. She leaned forward.

"Daffy is by no means a good person, but she's also not a _bad _person, and I mean that," she said firmly. "But it can't be denied that she deffo has some bad people in her life. Whether that's Draco or not, doesn't matter. I'm worried about her 'cause despite what she says, she is _very_ susceptible to manipulation and influence. I would know, she's been under my little finger pretty much since we started Hogwarts!"

She must have noticed the look Harry was giving her, as she then made to amend her words.

"Oh, it's not that bad! I get her to do things for me all the time and she doesn't realise it. I make her _think_ it's her choice... It sounds bad, I know, but _I_ have good intentions. I can't say that about others. Given what she's been driven to in the past, if she feels like she's actually in danger, or if the people she loves are, I'd dread to think what her limits could be."

Unsure if her words were as trustworthy as they seemed, Harry struggled to find his own. He didn't know much about that side of things, he'd only grown to know Daphne on surface level and had yet to see this so-called bad side of her.

"She said that she was trying to protect me when she left me…"

Harry replayed the images in his mind, as he had done so a thousand times before.

"When I asked her what from… she said... _who do you think?_ Honestly I was hoping somewhere our wires had gotten crossed. She wouldn't get involved with Voldemort willingly, I _know_ that she wouldn't! She even told me, when we got together, that she doesn't agree with their methods. It doesn't make any sense!"

Tracey's nose crinkled.

"Daffy rarely has ill intentions, but she gives half truths at best, intentional deceptions at worst. The Dark Arts and the Greengrass family go way back. I've been there to hear the way she talks about it. She's not above getting her hands dirty if she believes it's for her own best interest. The only side that she's on is her own. I don't think she gave the necklace to Katie, but I don't think she has completely innocent intentions all the time, either. The only difference between Daffy and the other girls in our house is they're upfront about how much of a bitch they are - Daphne hides it and pretends she's above that behaviour."

"But she's not like the other girls?"

"Oh, trust me, she is! She just get a temper when you remind her of that! Claims she don't care what others think, yet spends her whole time trying to shape people's opinions of her! She looks down on almost everyone, thinks she's smarter than half the teachers and only gives _me_ the time of day when it's convenient for her! She said she was going to be here today, actually! Did _you _see her in the stands?"

Tracey phrased the question like it was rhetorical, but he had in-fact been keeping an eye on the stands as he'd flown around the pitch. She didn't wait for a response.

"I knew she wasn't listening, because she was revisin' and, you know, god help anyone that comes between Daphne and her revisin'!" she said with an aggressive smile. "But, yeah... I told her the match was on tonight and that I was in it, how it was my first time playin' a game as part of a proper team and how excited I was. She said she'd come, and then... well, I don't know. I wasn't actually expectin' her to show but, I just thought that, maybe with _you _here... you know, she might have done."

Tracey's rant petered out and she dropped her head into her lap.

Silence and the sound of gentle wind took the scene. Harry felt the need to say something to comfort her, but his words refused to budge from his throat.

He was never good at talking about his feelings, it was about the only thing he inherited from the Dursleys. Arguments were solved by shutting up and waiting for it to blow over. Being surrounded by so many people now who were willing to not only talk about how they felt, but enjoyed sharing almost struck him as an alien concept. It left him on the spot, unable to reciprocate but wishing desperately he knew how to. It was why breaking up with Cho had been so difficult, and why Tracey had been leading the conversation up until now.

But there was a feeling around him, the isolation of being so far from everyone, that helped gather his thoughts coherently. He didn't feel like he was put on the spot out here. He had learned by now Tracey was shameless and words bounced off her like a brick wall. Between her and the vast emptiness of the environment around them, no embarrassment struck him as he opened his mouth, and when he finally spoke it was with the comfort that his words would most certainty float aimlessly into the distance to be forgotten.

He began to slowly work his words from his brain and through his mouth.

"We were barely even together for that long. It was like… half a year, I think? Something like that. And the whole time we were sneaking around behind people's backs."

Tracey lifted her head and seemed to notice he'd finally taken a lead in the conversation. She steepled together her fingers and resided herself now to listening.

"I didn't even get to know her properly," he continued, "she was just this mad desire I kept having in my head. She had it too, so we decided to follow it through, I guess. Just jumped straight into it. But then I started to lie. I ruined so many friendships to be with her, I was a twat to so many people close to me and I really don't deserve the friends that I have now. So, I do wish that I could move on from her and appreciate what I've got now, but… there's still this feeling I can't shake about her - about Daphne - that we just have this unfinished business. I think it's 'cause we never got a chance to be properly _together_, together, it was just always about keeping secrets. The thrill of the secret... It started like that, but it definitely didn't end that way."

A blush fought its way to his cheeks that Harry was defenceless to fight off.

"She made me happy, I see that now. I actually felt wanted when I was around her. A girl like _that_, interested in me… It felt good, honestly, I miss that feeling. We didn't need to go on proper dates or be public about it, just having her in my life was enough and well, now I miss that... Not a day goes by where I don't."

With each word on the subject, his face burned and his chest began to grow tighter and tighter. He sealed his grip around a handful of grass.

"And when I think of her in some kind of trouble and having to go through it on her own, I get… I get angry - at her! She's trying to fight it all alone. but that doesn't work. I _know _it doesn't work, I wouldn't be alive right now if I tried to do it all myself! She's making the same mistakes I made but won't listen to me when I try and explain that! I don't know what she's up to, I don't know what she knows - or what she _thinks_ she knows, but I don't care! Whatever it is, it doesn't matter! I didn't ask for this life, neither did she. I just wanted something normal, for once. This stupid war and the Death Eaters shouldn't matter, they didn't when we got together and they shouldn't now. Every day that I'm away from her, when I _know_ what she's going through, makes me feel like shit. Like I can't make her as happy as she made me. I'm meant to be the Chosen one, but if I can't protect her, then what good even am I?"

He pulled the grass from the ground beneath him. Tracey scooched in closer to him, their knees now touching. She leaned in with a jaded expression.

"Harry... Daphne Greengrass is the dumbest smart person you'll ever meet. She is self destructive, always thinks she knows best and is utterly impossible to prove wrong. If she is dead-set on doing this alone, you won't be able to stop her. That's on her, _not _you. Don't blame yourself for her ego."

He clenched his fists at her.

"I just need to prove that she doesn't have to go through what she's doing alone! If she's scared of them, if the Death Eaters are torturing her - blackmailing her - whatever it is they're doing, I can help, she _knows _I can help! Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, I just don't see why she's being so… so…"

"Secretive?"

"Yes! If she's in danger, I don't see why she seems so willing to go along with them! I can help her get out, I don't know why she doesn't see that!"

"Well, that's just it. The part that makes this all so messy. Have you considered that maybe _that _is a question we wouldn't like the answer to?"

Quietness again took the scene, and then he realised Tracey had no plans of following up her cryptic proclamation.

"What does that mean?" he asked her.

"I don't know. Nothing, probably nothing…" Tracey shook her head, and then suddenly looked around them. "Hey, don't know about you, but it's starting to get cold. Probably a mistake coming out here in the snow."

The snow had been gentle all night, and with the practically non-existent wind and their hearts still pounding from the Quidditch game, it hadn't been difficult to stay warm, even while out in the open like this. Now a thin layer of snow had made itself home on their clothing and the chilly night air was beginning to snake inside their robes.

"I was just following you."

"Needed somewhere private... Wanna cuddle?"

He stared at her. Tracey narrowed her eyes for a second and then burst out laughing. He deflated.

"Or we could go inside?"

"Sure. If we hurry we can try and make the feast."

They moved identically to their feet. Harry stood up and brushed himself off, then looked around to marvel at the stillness around them.

"Are you in love with her?"

He stared at Tracey, expecting to see another cheeky grin. This time she was being serious. Whatever boundary had been broken earlier that allowed him to say those things was now back in its place, and his heart did a somersault on the spot.

"Cause…" she added quickly, "I did nothing but bitch about Daphne just then, and all you had to say good things about her."

"Well… I mean, that's a… well…"

She stopped him.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer. But... I do love her."

Harry was silent. He was thankful Tracey didn't force a reply, but there was also a part of him that wanted to give an answer.

"I know you do too, and th-"

"Don't interrupt! I'm building to somethin'!"

She hit him with the same flare Daphne did when she was annoyed, giving him first-hand evidence that the girls were in fact related.

"I love Daphne... More than sister should love a sister, if I'm honest. Probably more like the way you feel about her, actually."

Harry didn't catch her meaning.

"But aren't you two...?"

Tracey closed her eyes, looking not unlike a condemned man confessing their sins. A lot of things suddenly clicked together uncomfortably inside Harry's head. He suddenly felt extremely unqualified to be having this conversation. It was hard for him to come up with a response to that, but knew he needed to give one.

"... Ah."

That was the best he could manage after having that bomb dropped on him.

"So..." Tracey started again, suddenly a lot more solid on what she was saying, "... despite everythin' I've just told you, I'd still lay down my life for her any day. I'm going to be there on her wedding day, even if you aren't. Over my dead body is she actually succeedin' pushing me away. And I think it would be nice if you would could give her that, too."

He shrugged desolately.

"I will try."

"You _do_ make her happy, if that's any consolation?"

"I like to think I did, sure."

"No, not did! You _do!_ Daffy's always been up her own arse, I've only _ever _seen her enjoy herself around you! I'm her best friend and even I don't get to make her feel the way you do. Imagine how that makes me feel."

He couldn't quite tell if he was meant to feel guilt about that.

"I'm... sorry?"

"No, no, don't be!" she said with a smile. "I'm not saying it's anythin' bad! That's not what I'm getting at. _We're_ the only people Daphne has. If we're really not just overthinkin' things and she's genuinely gotten herself into trouble, it's our help she needs to get out of it."

"Yeah…"

Together, the two started to walk off the pitch. They stopped off again in the changing rooms along the way to gather their things, and then began the tiresome trek uphill to the castle. They would probably be too late to catch the feast, but Harry still might have a chance to join the party in the common room. Though then again, he also didn't feel much like celebrating right now.

Somewhere along the way up, Tracey noticed how awkward the silence was.

"If you ever tell anyone I'm gay for my sister, I know how to dispose of a body."

Somehow, he didn't doubt that.

"We'll never speak of it again."

"Good. And hey, look, Daphne's not in any _immediate_ danger. You've heard Dumbledore go on about how safe Hogwarts is! So don't worry, she's probably long tucked up in bed right now."


	12. The Stranger

_"Where have they gone?"_

Through the darkness, Daphne was suddenly back.

She gasped a deep breath, filling her lungs with as much air as she could manage. It felt foul. Her mouth was dry and her tongue tasted like the back-end of a Squonk. A dull throbbing pain begin to arise in the back of her head.

_"Must be in the water, come on, we can head them off!"_

As her thought process began to boot up, it went every direction but straight. It went up, it went down, it backtracked, it brought up memories of long ago and some she didn't even knew she had.

She saw herself playing with Tracey, buying her first wand, getting accepted into Hogwarts, then joining Slytherin House, meeting Harry and receiving her mark, these images and even more danced around in front of her. Then as things got closer to the present they slowed and began to fade.

There was a green glow, darkness, and then… redness.

The night around her was cold. Her robes clung to her. She caught a whiff of musk and recognised it as her own sweat. But that wasn't all she could smell, there was a fresh, earthy scent lingering in the air as well. At that moment her hearing returned and her ears became full of the sound of rushing water. Shifting her head, Daphne opened her eyes. It took a second for them to focus, then as they did she found herself - much to her own confusion - sprawled out across a forest floor. She'd missed the river she was aiming for and landed about a couple meters away from the shoreline. She spied something more; there was blood on her robes. Moving to get a better look, she discovered there was a _lot _of blood on her robes.

Lifting her head caused the throbbing pain to worsen, so she relaxed it back and stared at the night sky.

She couldn't hear the Death Eaters - no, not Death Eaters - the _Aurors_, anymore. Or, at least, she presumed it was those voices that had woke her up. How could they not seen her? She had tried to launch herself and Merula into the river so they'd be swept away to safety, but she must have passed out somewhere along the way down. She wasn't exactly out in the open, but maybe through the darkness and the foliage she just wasn't easy to spot? That, and the Aurors were probably still recovering from her Bombara to the face.

As she pushed herself upright, a world of pain hit her like a freight train. She inhaled sharply. Her abdomen felt like a knife had been jabbed deep inside of it, which sent a red hot stinging right through into her core. She clenched her fists and pushed herself to her knees.

They'd fallen about twenty feet down a steep hill. It wasn't quite a cliff, but it was no wonder she lost her footing trying to get down. From what she could see over the ridge, the road above them was still, hopefully meaning the Aurors truly had left the area. That was lucky because going back up there might end up becoming her only option, as a further look at her surroundings didn't exactly thrill her with confidence. She was blocked in on all sides of the crevasse by thick foliage and stacks of rubbish. Merula - or a breathing shape she certainly hoped was her - was in a pile a couple feet away from her.

Daphne took another sharp breath. She moved to try and pull herself up with a nearby log.

The screaming in her limbs and throbbing in her skull told her she didn't have long before succumbing to exhaustion again. Food, water, any kind of relief would come as a godsend right now. She was suddenly the hungriest she'd ever been in her life.

As she pulled herself to her feet, her legs began to shake as they took more of her weight. Almost fully up now, with both hands on the fallen branch she began to pull herself through the foliage.

Merula was still completely out, but seemed stable enough. There was no chance she'd be apparating either of them any time soon. Daphne checked her wand was still on her - mercifully, it was- but she dared not attempt apparating them again. Her eyes leaked back over to the ridge they'd come tumbling down, not liking her reality.

There was another thing, she now realised, her face felt different. She brushed a strand of loose hair from her eyes, and it then occurred that she was no longer wearing her fathers mask. It must have come loose way down. She cursed. Now she was unmasked and exposed. She had better hope to find it on the way back up, otherwise she would never be hearing the end of it.

* * *

Daphne re-approached the rim of the ridge cautiously. She could spy the fence she'd broken on the way down and the remnants of the destroyed tunnel they'd apparated into. She lingered still for a moment. There was no sounds of movement, nor any signs of the Aurors.

With a hearty grunt, she dragged herself the rest of the way up the incline and collapsed against the wooden fence.

She began breathing slow, deep breaths. Stretching her lungs out was painful to her, but she needed it right now. She blinked a few times and licked her lips, regaining her composure. Doing as much as she could to keep herself hidden behind the fence, she studied her surroundings. The lack of light and blood pumping viciously into her head was disorientating her. She'd lost two of her senses entirely, and could barely see or hear a thing. She leaned against the fence for support and started shuffling along the grass.

Using her core muscles to climb made her stomach throw a temper tantrum, it still rumbled inside her like a naughty child on the time-out step. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she wove her wand hand through the air. A levitating Merula followed it's pattern, hovering on the spot for a few seconds and them slumping beside her against the fence.

Now she felt a lot less safe, being back in the open. She felt very aware of her own presence, as though she was the smallest living entity in an eternity of dreadful things, lurking just behind the darkness. Only now did she notice the heavy chorus of natural noises hanging around her: the harsh winter wind lapping at her hair, trees blowing all around her and indistinguishable noises of movement, put together it was almost deafening. The fence acted as her only anchor, almost like she was out at sea clinging to a piece of debris.

She coughed into her elbow. She'd tell herself it was due to the tightness in her chest, but really it was an attempt to break the uncomfortable stillness.

Daphne's delight over being free of her pursuers was fleeting, as it still left her with the overwhelming problem of not having a single clue where she was. Apparition was supposed to only be used to travel between places a person knew. She had chased a feeling, not a place, and was now left stranded in old-gods-know-where.

The Aurors would come back soon, she knew. They had temporarily lost sight of her, which for all intents and purposes meant she was now off the hook, but even without a mask, the state of her would be a dead giveaway. Not to mention the unconscious Death Eater levitating beside her.

She needed to find a way home. The mission failed and she had no desire to be tracked down and hunted like an animal. It was the Carrows that botched the job, she didn't have to worry about this coming back on her. Merula didn't exactly seem trustworthy, but she had undeniably had her back on the battlefield, she'd validate her claims, right? When she relied tonight to her father, she just had to keep honestly her top priority.

It was a rare relief, she observed, that something went horribly wrong and it wasn't down to her piss-poor decision making.

She was getting ahead of herself. She wasn't completely out of the woods yet. She still had to make it home in one piece. Apparating wasn't going to be an option and she doubted they were close to any kind of floo network. She needed to try and find them both some shelter, a farm or an inn of some kind - she'd frankly settle for a barn at this point. It was probably the exhaustion catching up with her, but she was now suddenly the most starving she had ever been. If she could just find them somewhere safe to keep their heads down, then she could worry about recuperating and trying to find a way back home after.

There was a road running vertical with the fence, she decided following that would probably be a good start. She started to limp her way down it but stopped again almost immediately.

It was a solid black kind of road, the ones you typically only got in Muggle ends of the country. If she was in a Muggle area then that could definitely be an advantage to her. There meant less people looking out for them. She could get help for Merula without any nasty questions, not to mention if they were somewhere densely populated enough, that they could blend in relatively easily. But all that came with a dilapidating consequence; she wouldn't be able to use her magic.

She slipped her wand into her robe pocket and then moved to relieve Merula of her silver mask. Seeing her face, Death Eater was in bad shape, with a busted lip and temple red with swelling. She dared not think of the state her own face was in right now. Pulling strength from Merlin-knows-where, she swung Merula's arm over her shoulder and together, the two of them began down the side of the raid.

Her walking was slow. Each step was a limp, Daphne's only guess was at some point she must have twisted or landed on her own foot, because she was getting a lot of pain from each pace. She kept her head down, watching her own feet as took step after step. Another breeze snaked its way around her, causing her body to instinctively shiver.

She felt extremely vulnerable out here.

It was just due to the sudden change of environment, she figured. She'd gone from escaping a battle scene by the skin of her teeth to being plunged in the middle of nowhere. She didn't know which direction the Aurors had gone, but decided they would probably have tried to follow them downstream - which was why they were heading upstream. She felt good about her chances, but as each step sent a surge of pain through her system, that hope began to dampen.

The twisting in her stomach had returned, each step was now becoming an accomplishment. The pain she was going through now was a lot more stable than earlier - provided she didn't move her upper torso that much - but that was hardly much consolation out here in the cold.

Somewhere behind her a branch snapped.

Daphne glanced over her shoulder. Nothing was there, nor were there anything moving on the horizon. She silently cursed herself for getting scared so easily.

As she turned back to face the direction they were heading, she noticed something quickly coming into sight. They hadn't been moving more than five minutes before happening across a road sign. Now she'd actually have a chance to figure out where she'd brought them.

_WELCOME ! - YOU ARE NOW IN SALFORD _

_PLEASE HELP KEEP SALFORD CLEAN !_

_SALFORD IS TWINNED WITH LUNEN, GERMANY, SAINT QUEEN, CLERMONT-FERRAND AND NARBONNE, FRANCE_

Daphne frowned.

How in Merlin's name had she taken them to Salford?

She began to recall her most recent memories. The last thing she remembered before apparating was trying to picture somewhere safe. Her bedroom occurred to her, as did her dorm room, and Harry's Room of Requirement. None of them were in Salford, though, and all of them lay inside Hogwarts protection wards. So then she thought deeper, and imagined going on holiday with father, playing with Astoria in the Woodhouse grounds, visiting Tracey and her moth-

Her thought process grinded to a halt.

Tracey was from Manchester. Salford was _in _Manchester.

An unintended groan escaped her lips. She knew instantly where they were. She hadn't visited Manchester since she was a girl, but the memories attached to it must have kept the location alive in her mind. She'd brought them near Tracey's old neighborhood, and this was the exact sign she'd always feel giddy about whenever they passed.

They were on the main road leading into Manchester, if she carried along this way she should end up in the pedestrianised cities centre. There was a hospital somewhere near there, she suddenly recalled, having visited it once when Tracey ruined her ankle.

A hospital, a heavily populated muggle one nonetheless, would be the opposite place they'd want to be while keeping a low profile. Dragging Merula with her would worsen matters, but she couldn't find it within herself to abandon the Death Eater on the side of the road. Bigger towns like that always had a population of magical neighborhoods - if she spoke to the right people then there was a chance she could find her way to a floo network. She had no idea where to start, or what the magic-safe locations even were in this city.

She had never even _been_ into a muggle city on her own before, but knowing the alternative night that awaited her, she began to reluctantly limp forward again.

* * *

Daphne fought the urge to whine out loud.

What in Merlin's name even _was_ a cappuccino? She'd never heard of a drink like that before and couldn't begin to picture what one was. Was a cup of tea seriously that difficult? She leaned in to what she deduced was some kind of speaker.

"A cup of tea, please. No sugars and only a little milk."

She waited a second, but the electronic machine gave no response.

"You press the button, sweet."

Daphne's back snapped straight and she turned to see an impatient muggle in line behind her. The muggle pointed at rounded buttons next to the drink names and she mumbled a hollow thank you at them.

She pressed the button next to the cappuccino label, but again, nothing happened.

"It takes cash… _honestly_..."

She turned back to the muggle again.

"Money?"

"Mmhmm. You got any?"

Even with the rude tone she was using, Daphne couldn't be annoyed at her.

She was a stranger in their world, after all

Saving as much face as she could, she politely excused herself from the growing queue and quickly made herself scarce.

There was a harsh sterile hue covering the scene, inescapably reflecting off of every surface around them. It burned her eyes and because of it, she kept her hood up. It had earned her a few funny looks, to which she deduced robes like hers were not the norm in the muggle realm. The Death Eater robe was the only item of her clothing they'd allowed her to keep on, and that was only after she started complaining about being cold.

She stepped back into the ward she had come from. There was a sign above the door that read "SHORT STAY UNIT" and a gathering of maybe six beds, full of patients who were long asleep by now. She crossed down the aisle and behind a drawn curtain, where Merula was passed out in a hospital bed. She had an alien-looking machine beeping beside her and plastic wires sticking out of her person.

The grotesque sight of her churned Daphne's stomach. The methods of healthcare muggles used where borderline barbaric, but knowing their situation, she couldn't find it in her to argue with them.

She recalled her time in Muggle Studies. It took a lot to make a subject boring for her, but by Merlin had Professor Burbage achieved it. She'd learned enough in there to understand the basics of how the muggle world worked, and she knew well of their over-dependence on electrical machinery.

As she stopped moving it took a second for her surroundings to settle around her.

She was still in a state, but felt a million times better than she had done not an hour previous. The muggle nurses had swapped out her clothes and given her clean, hospital-issued ones, then gave her stuff necessary to clean up her face. Now she was out of the darkness she realised her sight had a red tinge to it, and the source of that was a bloody great gash leading up her right eyebrow, to which the doctors had fastened a bandage around for her. When she looked in the mirror, the bloodied up, eyepatch-wearing Death Eater that looked back was unrecognisable.

A muggle nurse, a small elderly lady, moved from tending to Merula and began to talk to her.

"Your friend is in a very bad state. You did well to get her away from the men who attacked you, Miss Davis."

The voice that left Daphne's mouth was dry, tired and barely hers.

"Will she live?"

"Oh, without a doubt! She'll need an overnight stay though, definitely," the muggle nodded and crossed her arms. "Maybe even more than that. She'll be up and walking in a few days 'though."

Daphne scratched her nose, her eye contact constantly shifting around the room.

"Can she not be out tonight?"

"With the painkillers she's on?" Muggle Nurse chuckled. "The only way she's leaving here is if you haul her over your shoulder!"

She worded it like a joke, but considering that was pretty much exactly how Daphne had gotten her here, she didn't get the humour in it.

"Now, I'm not really qualified to talk to you about your assault, so a doctor will be in to see you shortly. Can I get you anything in the meantime?"

Daphne shook her head, thankful for the thought of coming isolation, but then suddenly answered.

"A cup of tea?"

Muggle Nurse smiled at her.

"Of course."

They then left her alone and Daphne did her best to ease herself down into a bedside chair. Upon contact she melted into it, and it was in that moment she decided it was the comfiest chair she'd ever sat on in her life.

She closed her eyes and let out a much-deserved sigh.

Everything finally seemed quiet now. The Muggles had done less well at helping cease her pain than they had done at cleaning her up, but truth be told, she hardly had high expectations. Muggle technology could never hold a candle to good, old-fashioned potion making. Even a second year with the right ingredients could whip up a wiggenweld potion that would have her jumping around again in no time. But she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth; she'd even caught herself being praising the nurses as they tended to her.

Getting Merula into the hospital building had been one of the most challenging moments of her life. Daphne had no idea how the public transportation worked in this city, and by the time she finally carried her bridal-style through the hospital doors, she was well and truly on her last legs. At that point she was gasping every breath and blood was pouring from her eyebrow. But now, they were finally safe, and she found the long and unending corridors of the hospital helped return her to a state of familiarity.

She'd stopped being cold a long ago, but only recently stopped shivering.

Wincing, she lifted her hand and pressed it between her breasts. She could still feel a tightness trapped inside her chest, like a balloon inflating far past the size it was supposed to reach. Now she was off her feet it was the worst she was dealing with, and truth be told, it was the only thing keeping her from dozing off on the spot.

The knowledge that no matter the hardship she faced in the future she would never have to go through a struggle as great as the one she had faced tonight again, even in spite of the pain she was still in, did a lot to soothe her. She would still have to get them back to her father and explain how the mission had gone wrong, of course. But right now, as she pressed her face against the softness of the headrest, she found herself really struggling to care about any of that.

She was just thankful to be alive.

It was remarkable how black and white things had become in the face of danger. The rest of her problems didn't matter anymore, the first thing she was doing when she got back to Hogwarts was giving Harry the biggest kiss of his life and telling her father where to stick his dark mark. Okay - a _mild _exaggeration - but Merlin's Beard if it didn't feel good to imagine that.

Daphne then flinched awake as another muggle came in, this time a large black man in a white coat. The doctor of the ward, she imagined. He gave her a look that made her shrink away on instinct.

"Hello, Miss Davis. How are you doing?"

She nodded and gave him a weary smile.

Muggle Doctor made his way down to the bottom of the hospital bed, unhooked a clipboard from the railing and began to read aloud from it.

"Your friend is in bad shape. Very serious concussion, bruising on her lungs and a deep cut on her leg. We've put her in a barb coma for now so she doesn't hurt herself. And yourself…" he continued, "Concussion, rib-cage cracked in two places, eyebrow in need of stitching and a number of serious bruises on abdomen, legs and arms. That all sound about right?"

Daphne nodded again.

She was surprisingly not taken aback by this news. The cracked rib cage made sense, that would have been from getting hurled into the fence. It also explained the tightness when she breathed. The bruises would have been from the direct hits she took in the field. She didn't recall what could have happened to cut her eyebrow, as she had the mask on for the majority of the stand-off and only lost it recently.

Muggle Doctor moved to lean against the bed railing.

"Now I've got a few questions that I have to ask you for legal reasons, that okay?"

Daphne bobbed her head in acknowledgement, trying to mentally prepare her voice.

"Full name?"

"Tracey Davis."

He scratched down her answer.

"Date of Birth?"

"June ninth... nineteen eighty."

"You don't sound very sure about that."

Daphne sighed at herself. She delayed answering perhaps a second longer than she should have. How did she not know Tracey's birthday off by heart?

"June ninth, nineteen eighty," she repeated.

The muggle stared at her a moment longer, before shrugging and writing her answer down.

"Who's your next of kin?"

"My mother, Moira Davis."

"You have her number?"

She couldn't help the frown she sent him.

"I… don't know it off heart, no."

Did muggles use identification numbers? She grimaced. That certainly sounded morbid.

"Okay, now push with me through these next ones, alright? These are strictly what _we_, as the hospital, needs to know. Information said here won't be repeated to anyone else, we just gotta get you and your friend the right treatment."

Daphne eyed him carefully, but nodded all the same.

"Okay."

There wasn't anyway this muggle could have any idea who she really was and why she was here, but there was something in his tone setting off alarm bells.

"Have you or your friend had any illegal substances in your system within the past forty-eight hours?"

She shook her head.

"I have not. I cannot speak for her."

"Either of you drink alcohol?"

"I do. Occasionally. Again, I don't know about her."

"What _do _you know about her?"

Daphne shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"We are… new friends."

He regarded her a moment longer, then nodded and wrote down an answer.

"Sexually active?"

"No."

"Hmm. And the men that attacked you... was your interaction with them purely a physical confrontation, or was there any level of sexual assault involved, to either of you?"

Daphne's heart sank a little. His unusual wording suddenly made sense to her. A shameful blush rushed its way to her face.

"No, nothing like that." she said quickly. "Just the normal one, please. Both of us."

"The _normal _one, I see... And, again, you claimed this was unprovoked assault?"

Daphne stared at him.

Why did it feel like she was being examined right now? Did he know something she didn't?

"I did."

"Do you feel you could give an accurate description of the men involved?"

Daphne considered for a second.

"No, I do not. It was dark and... they surprised us from behind."

Muggle Doctor nodded.

"So, let me just sum this up... you and a girl you don't know where attacked by a group of men, and without getting a look at any of the attackers faces, you then managed to fight them off alone and drag your friend half-way across the city here, by yourself?"

That sinking feeling moved somewhere into her gut.

Well, when he worded it like _that_...

Muggle Doctor nodded again and stood up.

"I think I've got everything I need. As soon as there's a bed available we'll try and get you moved into one. You gonna be okay until then?"

She nodded sharply.

"Good. Police are on their way, you just sit tight until they get here."

As quickly as Daphne had laid her head down in the headrest, she brought it back up again.

"I didn't request law enforcement?"

He shook his head.

"Didn't have to. Standard procedure to call 'em when we have a patient whose been assaulted. They'll just ask you a few questions, probably take a statement, nothing to worry about. Just tell them everything you told me and that'll be all."

"I don't want to involve the…" she took a second to recall the word he used, "the _police_. I would rather keep this matter quiet, please."

Muggle Doctor offered her little more than a shrug.

"It's procedure, honey. Not my call. You hang tight, okay?"

As he made to leave, he handed her a small plastic capsule and a cup of water.

"Sweets?" she asked him.

He stared blankly back at her.

"Pills... _Painkillers_. Take two now and another two before you go to bed."

Daphne nodded, unsure, but willing to go along with the muggles methods. She unscrewed the plastic top and popped two of the pills into her mouth, swallowing them instantly. As the dry, sour taste hit the back of her throat, her nose scrunched up.

The muggle shook his head, grimacing.

"I hate everything about everything that you just did."

He exited behind the curtain and Daphne was quick to chug down the water he'd left. Her mouth already tasted awful, swallowing that dry pill certainly hadn't helped matters. It was the first drink she'd had all night and felt like precious nectar as it slid down her throat.

Finishing her drink, she again began to descend into panic mode.

It was plain as day that he hadn't believed a word of her story, and the last thing she needed right now was to be carted off to some muggle law enforcement place. She didn't know what records they kept or if they were strict as those of the Ministry, but she didn't put it past them to also figure out she was lying about her identity too. She knew Tracey had a muggle record and had just said the first thing that came to mind. It would only take a semi-intelligent person to look at an ID picture and figure out she was in fact, not the brown-haired tomboy, Tracey Davis.

The Ministry had undercover workers positioned all across the UK to mediate interactions between Muggles and reckless magic-users, Daphne would show up as a red flag for them as soon she entered the system. The Aurors that followed her here had probably figured out where in the country they were and had others out searching for them too. If she was found out, they would have people on her in minutes. And if she was detained somewhere tonight, she wouldn't be leaving.

Any and all comfort Daphne felt was now being drained painfully from her soul. She still wasn't out of the woods. She'd taken her five minute rest and was thrown right back in the thick of it.

She needed to be gone from here, quickly.

She rose to her feet, steadying herself on the bed railing, and moved to where she'd placed her pile of clothes. Or where she _thought_ she'd placed her pile of clothes. All that was left now was an empty table. Cursing herself, she dragged back the hospital curtain, and found Muggle Nurse from earlier returning with her cup of tea.

"Where are my things?"

"Bagged up, sweetie!" she replied briskly. "Doc says police want them as evidence."

Daphne gritted her teeth into a forceful snarl.

"Well I would like to have them back."

The muggle moved to place Daphne's tea on the bedside table and reasserted.

"Reception has them, you can certainly ask, but I don't think you're going to get them back until police have seen to you. Can I get you anything else?"

Fighting the urge to snap again at the innocent muggle, Daphne shook her head in forced silence. As she was left alone again, she started to pace back and forth, limping with each step.

She was really in the shit now. Her wand had been placed with her things, if police found that, they'd no-doubt contact Aurors to deal with her. That was the routine, she'd heard about it. One undercover Auror on every council to maintain the wizarding/magical peace. They'd no doubt have a lot of questions about how a sixteen year-old schoolgirl ended up beaten and bloody halfway across the country, and with a known Death Eater nonetheless.

Daphne's eyes snapped back to the bedside table.

They'd taken Merula's mask as well. That was as good as being caught at the scene of the crime.

She anxiously chewed the inside of her mouth.

Where had the nurse said her things were taken? Reception? Carefully, she tugged back the curtain surrounding the bed just enough to peak through it. Angling with her good eye, she spied the reception desk just across from the beverage machine she was at earlier. A young woman was sitting at the desk, seemingly minding her own business, but it was what was behind her that grabbed Daphne's eye. A wall of pigeon holes, each with what looked like plastic bags inside. She was willing to bet that was where they'd taken her belongings. She glanced around; there was nobody in line there and nobody at the machine, which meant right now she had a straight-shot from here to there.

Then at that moment, a trio of people in black and white official-looking uniforms rounded the corner and began down the corridor towards her. The were following behind the same muggle doctor she had spoken to earlier.

She retreated quickly behind the curtain.

Those were no doubt the police he had mentioned, which meant she had to move quickly.

Tip-toeing as best she could, she snaked her way around the back of the curtain and into the next bed cubical over, which was thankfully vacated. She felt bad leaving Merula, but knew the reality of her situation. There was no way she could carry her out unnoticed and without the assistance of magic. It wasn't like she was being abandoned on the side of the road, either, she needed help and was getting it here. Daphne had brought her this far, which considering the woman was a full-blown Death Eater, was probably more than she owed her. She felt no guilt in leaving her behind now.

As she popped her head out of the curtain, it was just in time to see the last of the police officers disappearing into Merula's cubicle, where she'd been not a moment ago.

Her gaze drew to reception. If she could just get her belongings and get out, she could also then take any evidence of Merula being a witch along with her. That would make her unnoticeable by any Aurors, and would save her from being outed as a Death Eater. Daphne couldn't imagine she would be particularly happy about her wand being stolen, but given the alternative and the fact she would be long-gone by the time she regained consciousness, it was a decision she didn't think twice about.

Waiting another second to ensure the coast was clear, she emerged from behind the curtain and made a bee-line for the reception desk.

Her tired heart had again started pounding quicker. The faster she walked the more noticeable her limp was, so she tried to keep a steady pace, only speeding up when she was sure nobody was looking. It was difficult to keep track of her surrounds with only one working eye. She winced with each step she took, but the pain was slowly getting drowned out by the adrenaline pumping into her system.

Reaching the desk, she found it mercifully abandoned, the woman from a second ago was gone and a 'BACK IN TEN' card left in her place.

She thanked the old-gods and wasted no time in manoeuvring herself around the desk and snatching the largest plastic bag from the cubical. Giving it a once-over was enough, she could easily make out Merula's silver mask inside and could feel the impression of at least two wands. She brought herself out from behind the desk as quick as she could, and then started in the opposite direction of the police officers.

There was a lift at the end of the corridor. Her way out.

It seemed close enough to the type the ministry used - albeit it larger and more sterile-looking - for her to know how to use it. Limping, Daphne stuffed the plastic bag under her shirt and marched towards it, freedom on the brink. She reached the doors and clicked the button. The doors immediately opened and she stepped inside.

"Hold the lift!"

She turned around, and she saw one of the police officers from earlier rushing down the corridor. She froze on the spot. Never more in her life had she wished to be skilled at wandless magic, as she willed the doors to close in time.

The officer reached the lift just in the nick of time, but then instead of apprehending or whatever muggles did during arrests, simply fell in line beside her.

"Cheers for that. You going down?"

Daphne stared at them with wide eyes and raised brows.

Didn't they recognise her? Wait, of course they didn't, they'd never met her. They couldn't have even seen a picture of her before. For all the officer knew, Daphne was just another patient at the hospital.

She forced a smile through her anxieties.

"Yes, I am."

The police officer, who she could now make out to be a middle-aged eastern woman, clicked a button into place and the doors sealed shut. The two were now locked in together. The lift came to life around them and she got that sinking feeling again, and it was nothing to do with the lift.

"When're you due?"

It took a second her to realise the police woman was talking to her. And more than that, she was smiling.

Daphne could only frown back in confusion.

"Pardon?"

It took her a second, which was way longer than it should have done. She caught onto the exact positioning of the plastic bag under her hospital gown.

"Oh… "

She pulled her toothiest smile, and took to caressing the plastic bag-shaped lump on her stomach.

"Soon, actually! That is why I am here... at the hospital... because I am pregnant... with a baby... and nothing else... and I'm going out for some fresh air now."

The police woman smiled back at her. She seemed completely oblivious to how much she was melting behind her facade, and of the sweat building on her neck.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

She swallowed hard.

It was getting a lot hotter inside this lift.

"A boy, actually!"

"That's nice," the officer nodded. "Me and my husband are trying for a boy. Do you have a name picked out?"

It was definitely getting hotter in here. And this was the longest lift journey of her life. How long had they been here already? True they didn't have the assistance of magic, but she swore it hadn't taken this long getting Merula up here.

"Harry."

"That's a cute name."

Daphne's ears were burning.

She had completely forgotten everything she'd known about being a normal, conspicuous person. Her mind was blank, and the awareness that this was without any doubt the most important conversation of her life was the only thought bouncing around in her head. Tracey always claimed she was terrible at lying, now Daphne felt she'd been being truthful the entire time.

In a desperate attempt to make her story seem more genuine, she suddenly spoke up again.

"It's after the father, actually!"

Mercifully, an electronic beep then sounded and the doors opened in front of them.

"Thank you. Bye."

She wasted no time and exited the lift as fast as her sore pregnant-lady feet would carry her.

She came out into a big empty corridor, not dissimilar to the ones she saw in the ministry, but again with that sterile hue coating everything. Then she spotted a pair of glass doors and began to make the final push to end her miserable night. Marching towards them, her hands disappeared inside her hospital gown. She definitely had hers and Merulas wand on her, that was good. She didn't think that she'd managed to lose them, but her yearning to just get this night over with forced her to double check.

As she reached the entrance, she tried the doors and they wouldn't budge. A second later a security guard, she presumed, made his presence known to her.

"Can't let you out after hours, sorry."

Daphne pulled her best puppy-dog eyes at him.

"I just want some fresh air! Look! I'm pregnant!"

She gestured to the lump on her stomach again, as if it weren't obvious.

"There's an outdoor sitting area for that, just down the hall and to the right."

She shook her head.

"Could I not just go out the front? I only want small walk… please… I will be right back?"

The muggle shook his head still, resolute in his words.

"Afraid not, m'am. Security risk."

Daphne fell back onto balls of her feet.

As her options drained discouragingly from her mind, she felt her strength failing with it.

What had she done that was so bad that everything was out to get her? The universe just kept taking and taking from her, it was never enough. Everything she had been through tonight, and yet, the old-gods were still out there coming up with cruel obstacles for her.

She had been through hell and now again, right on the verge of getting off the hook, she was forced to watch as her freedom was snatched away from her.

She looked at the guard up and down. He was an older guy, maybe in his fifties, but still looked like he could prove a force to be reckoned with. He was too big to get past physically, especially while she was in her current state. Though she debated it, she had heard how muggle buildings always had security recorders in them, and dared not cast a spell at him for risk exposure.

Daphne took a harsh breath.

She was sick to death of always getting lumped with other people's shit. There was a time she was formidable and a force to be reckoned with. Classmates used to be scared of her, once upon a time. How the mighty had fallen. She used to be prodigy witch of Hogwarts, now she was nothing more than a snivelling rat, afraid to stand up her herself in case it made others mad.

If she had fought harder against her father, she wouldn't have ended up a Death Eater. If she fought harder against Snape, she wouldn't have been sent here tonight.

If she fought with herself, she'd actually be able to stick up for herself...

She was sick of not being in control. She was sick to death of having old men tell her what to do. She was sick of being a coward. Adapting to any given climate was what Daphne considered herself good at, but it was always through necessity, not choice. But not this time, though. This time the choice would definitely be hers.

An abnormal expression leaked onto her face.

"I will ask you one more time. Please... let me through."

The security guard gave her a sympathetic look, but again, didn't budge.

"No, M'am. I'm sorry."

Her hands under her gown, Daphne slipped open the plastic bag and felt around inside.

"So am I."

Her hands sealed around what they were looking for, and as the security guard gave her a questionable look, she brought her wand into her sleeve.

"_Imperio." _

Hidden from sight, a fuzzy mist oozed from her wand and enters the muggles head. It seeped in through his nose, mouth and eyes, and a second later he straightened up, dull-faced but aware.

Her breath stopped. She'd done it.

A level of power surged through Daphne's being the likes of which she'd never experienced before.

"Unlock the door and let me out."

The security guard moved. He turned, shifted a key from his back pocket and unlocked the sliding glass doors. A beeping noise sounded and the doors moved smoothly open.

As she limped forward, the cold night air hit her like a physical blow. She definitely hadn't missed that. It took all her willpower not to retreat back inside. She gestured the guard towards a brick wall.

"Come and block me while I get changed."

The man obeyed again. She got into a position where she had the best privacy she could manage, which was barely any, and broke open the plastic bag fully.

Merula's stuff was all in here too, and she found herself stealing more than a few warmer-looking items. She cocked her hip to the side as she began to get changed, putting most of her weight onto her good side. She removed the hospital gown and doubled up with two pairs of leggings, and then her still-damp school pants over them. The cold bit sharply at her fragile figure, Daphne clenched her teeth and willed herself through it.

She helped herself to Merula's sweater, put her black cloak back it and then kept the remaining items in the plastic bag, which then went back to being tucked into her stomach. As satisfied as she could be stripping to her underwear in the dead of winter in the middle of a muggle city, Daphne steadied herself.

She turned back to the security guard to thank him for his assistance, but then a startling realisation hit her.

She had no idea how to reverse the spell.

The Imperius curse was unforgivable, and the unforgivable curses were shocking easy to perform, hence what made them so dangerous. It was the first - and hopefully last - time that she'd ever cast one, and as such, she had barely knowledge as to its inner workings.

Her hand shaking from the cold, she brought her wand back to the muggles head.

"_Unperio?"_

Her wand gave no indication of magic and the guard started unresponsively back at her.

Daphne bit down hard on her lower lip.

_"Imperio nox?"_

Again, no response from either. She cursed violently under her breath.

She couldn't just leave him like that. Even though she was now free, there was still something inside her screaming to fix this. It wasn't even that he was a liability, more than that, she felt immoral leaving a poor man's life in tatters just because he got in her way.

She thought extremely hard about her next choice of wording.

"Go inside and complete your shift as normal. After that… be happy. Don't let anybody tell you how to live. Never be selfish and... always be kind. That's it."

The security guard nodded. He offered her a small smile, then retreat back inside and started locking up the glass doors behind her. Daphne did the only thing she could think to do at that point.

Tears in her eyes, she turned, and made her way into the night.


	13. The Ice Queen Mother

She had never been more tired in her entire life.

As Daphne went, her eyes remained firmly on the ground. She didn't feel like looking around, she was just determined to get tonight over with. The way she cradled her stomach was for more than just holding Merula's things in place.

She'd been walking for hours. She didn't even know if she was heading in the right direction. Her orientating skills were fine, but that didn't change the fact that she was lost in a world where she didn't belong. If ill intent happened across her, she doubted she was in any state to defend herself. She couldn't apparate or call for help. She would be completely at theirs, or anybody else's, mercy. Closing her eyes, she gave a sigh and quickened her pace.

She _really_ wished she hadn't thought of that.

As she passed under each street lamp she watched as her shadow grew and shrank with her. It was strangely hypnotic, especially as the lights enveloped her eye patch, filling one half of her vision with a bright orange glow, only to sink back into the darkness again. It helped contribute to the otherworldly daze that had since overtaken her, trudging her forward at a snail's pace, heading only where her instinct lead her. She had covered a lot of ground since she'd left the hospital, if it was any other time of year, she'd probably be seeing the sun on the horizon any moment now.

Some more time passed, she didn't know how long - wasn't paying attention - but there was still no sun. And it was getting colder. The chill had finally seeped through her layers and into her bones.

She was shivering now.

The dark of the night stopped her seeing more than a few paces ahead of her. Trudging forward, she continued heading from street lamp to street lamp, looking for any kind of point of reference. Shelter was priority now. It was cold - she didn't know how cold - but guessed way below freezing. Without magic, she wouldn't last much longer on her own out here. She had yet to come across another living being, beyond the occasional cat running into a garden or that one fox in the road she'd seen a few miles back, but no sign of any people… at this point she didn't know if she should count that as a blessing or not.

She eventually found herself in some housing suburbs. Something clicked in her head and it brought her back to her surroundings. She was along the right track, she was sure of it. More than that; shapes were beginning to look familiar to her. Zoning out was the only way she'd been able to get here in one piece, but now her eyes were peeled and darting to anything they recognised.

Steadily, she began to slow her pace.

Intentions had changed, going back to Greengrass Woodhouse was no longer the plan anymore. The mission was botched and that wasn't her fault, now her main priority was thinking of herself. _Finally_ thinking of herself. She didn't owe anybody anything, and she'd deal with the repercussions for daring to think like that later. Right now she could go the rest of her life without seeing her father, Merula Snyde or the Carrows ever again.

She came to a stop. A faded memory was the only guidance she had, how she even made it here?

A familiar sight went a long way for the condition she was in. The house was exactly as she remembered. It was in a row of identical ones, but this one stuck out for it's unkempt garden and general run-down aesthetic.

She'd spent the long walk thinking about this decision. It was something she was certain she never she wanted to do, but her circumstances were absolute. It was this, death from the elements or incarceration. Unfortunately that didn't make it any less of a difficult decision, and there were brief moments when her anxieties were trying to make her second guess herself. But eventually she convinced herself that... whatever happened next… it would not be as bad as the alternative.

Reality was running slower now. Her limbs hurt more than before, each step making them worse. She trudged forward towards the house, wincing with every step, but determined not to let it fall away in front of her.

There was once a time where she was always happy to see this front door, and though that was a long time ago, it paled in comparison to the sheer joy and relief that she felt now. Never in a million years had she imagined herself actually being here again. She took another deep breath – as deep a breath as she could manage - and relished the feeling.

She lifted her hand, and after a few shaky misses, knocked on the door. It was late into the night... or early in the morning... but Daphne liked her chances that the homes occupants were awake. For an anxious moment, there was complete silence.

Then a thump.

Her blood ran an icy cold.

Another thump and the sound of shuffling.

She doubted herself again. Her heart sank.

The door creaked open, allowing a partially hidden face to peek through the gap. A familiar eye met Daphne's own. For a brief second, the two held one another's gaze. The eye widened.

A deep, yet feminine voice answered from within.

"Daphne?"

It was a voice that Daphne had not heard in so long. As such the circumstances made her nearly want to break off running when she heard it - it scared her, yet at the same time, and against her better judgement, she missed it and its reluctant owner.

Leaning against the door frame to support herself, she gave a weary smile.

"Hey, Mummy. Can I come in?"

* * *

A dozen shouted questions were bombarding her at once, questions that she couldn't entirely hear, if she was being honest. She had long since zoned out, knowing it was the only way to get this all over with. She surrendered any and all physical protest, completely giving into her mother's control. Her body simply floated in the direction it was lead. She was helpless to fight off whatever storm was about to hit, that much she knew.

Tonight had long since ran her dry, and she was just taking solace in the fact she was finally safe.

A feeling of relief washed over her upon entering the house. Her nose was being filled with a thousand nostalgic smells. It wasn't anything particularly nice, or of anything one certain thing, but it was the scent of home. It wreaked of safety and comfort, of Tracey, of their childhood spent playing knights and dragons in the woods around the corner from here. Memories of days long passed by washed over her and by Merlin, how she wished she could go back to them.

"What on earth happened to you!? Are you okay!? What's wrong with your eye!? Sit down, sit down!"

Her mother kept the questions coming and the fact that she wasn't getting any answers didn't seem to be phasing her. Daphne stared blankly as she was pushed down onto an old settee, which was the exact same one and in the exact same place that she remembered it being.

"Why aren't you at Hogwarts!?" was partially-shrieked at her.

She looked properly at her mother for the first time. A sudden and startled sigh escaped her lips. It was Tracey's eyes that were staring back at her, grief-stricken with fear. They brought Daphne back to the room.

With a heavy heart, and her mind racing a million miles per hour, she finally tried her best to answer.

"I've... gotten myself into some trouble, Mummy."

Her mother, Moira Davis, was younger than her father by a few years, but hadn't aged as well as he had. She had the same tubby figure and hair that curled into dreadlock-like appendages she remembered her having, albeit now with grey streaks in them.

The image of her, just like the memories, brought a pang of anxiety with them.

All the times she'd thought of coming back, it was always the unforgiving Davis stare that scared her off. Yet now she was actually here, the stare was absent, and her mother's face scrunched up in confusion, and then as realisation dawned on her, it fell flat.

"Oh, Daphne… please, not you too…"

Her tone - _that_ tone - struck like a slap to the face.

A swelling happened inside of Daphne and their brief eye contact was broken. She had lived through shame and embarrassment before, but this had hit differently. A bombardment of emotions she couldn't recognise was descending on her all at once. Was she feeling guilty? Embarrassed of what her life had become? Frustrated over her situation? Or just ashamed her mother had seen her like this?

Her face retreated behind her hair and eye-patch, and she saw her mother's figure move away from her. Daphne didn't know what she was feeling, and didn't quite know how to process the sensations flowing through her system. All that she could recognise was she was suffering she was in.

Her mother had her back turned to her now, she knew she wasn't just admiring the scenery.

"What did he make you do?" she asked gently, but with a level of solidarity to her voice. "Are you okay? Did he make you hurt anyone?"

Daphne shook her head, fighting for her words.

"No... I'm fine, Mum."

A loud crash sounded elsewhere in the room.

"YOUR _BASTARD_ FATHER!"

Daphne's body cleared five foot in the air.

"I _knew_ this would happen!" she shouted. "God... how could I have been so _stupid_! Ackley Snyde was the worst thing that _ever_ happened to your father! I was an idiot letting him take you! It wasn't enough he lost his brother, was it? No! Now he has to go and drag _you_ into it!"

Heart-pounding, she kept her gaze glued firmly on the ground. She was rapidly doubting the choices that brought her here. A tear welled in her good eye, but she did nothing to wipe it away. She tried to open her mouth and retort, but her mother simply shouted louder.

"I swear I could _kill_ that man!"

Her mother's face was hidden behind her dreads, but she sounded more fuming than Daphne had ever seen her.

Her eyes inched around the room for an escape route. She saw at that moment that it wasn't just the same sofa she was on, the entire living room looked identical to how she'd remembered it. Just as cramped, cheap and rundown as she had known it to be, even back then. It wasn't just politics that drove her mother and father apart, they also both had very different ideas of what constituted a healthy lifestyle.

And it was a life Daphne had long since left behind.

She was a fool if she thought for a second any of this would be easy. She had not quite convinced herself of that either; more she had just been avoiding thinking of the confrontation that would come it. She had so much she wanted to say - so much she knew needed to be said - but her words were failing her, as they often did in the heat of the moment. She had come with innocent intent. But now she was actually here, doing it and saying it, she suddenly missed the cold night air.

She knew that words would have to be spoken between them tonight, but was in no rush for them to actually start. She was content to sit in silence for however long she needed, waiting patiently, yet anxiously, for her mother to calm down. It was difficult enough just being in this woman's presence, she was not about to start an argument.

Her mother fell silent, her ragged breaths being the only sound in the room. They stayed like this for several minutes, both mother and daughter too emotional to say a word. Daphne had nothing to say, and the only things that came to mine wouldn't do herself justice. After a few moments, it was clear that one of them had to speak again at some point, regardless of how much they would hate it.

Her voice barely a whimper, she opened her dry lips again.

"I need to use your floo powder."

"Why?"

Her mother's reply was quick. It followed an air of accusation with it that churned Daphne's stomach.

"I need to get back to Hogwarts."

Her mother finally turned back to her, wearing a look on her that Daphne shied away from. She considered herself good at reading expressions, but even if she wasn't, the scepticism on her face was obvious.

She winced, and clenched down hard on her teeth.

"A lot of stuff has happened tonight, Mum... I can't tell it you all, but... I honestly just want to go to bed. Please."

Even from here, she could see the tears beginning to form in her mother's eyes. They weren't ordinary tears, either, not ones of sadness or hate, but of frustration. She knew them all too well.

"What's _happened_ to you, Daphne?"

That was the question that broke her.

Something inside snapped. She had no answer to it. There was nothing to say that could justify her actions tonight. She'd broken the law and was a wanted woman, and had just about traded her soul to get away with it. At that moment all of her anxiety and restraints broke.

It took a night full of abuse and terror, but the Ice Queen finally shattered.

She hated this. She hated feeling like this. Pathetic and vulnerable, running back into mummy arms when things had gotten too difficult for her. It took a lot to push a person into actions that went so fundamentally against their nature, but yet she was there. She was a Death Eater, the lowest of the low, and wasn't even good at it. She was a coward and nothing else. She had fallen past the point of no return.

Her head felt cold. Her throat felt empty. She felt empty. Empty and cold.

She picked herself up off the sofa, sniffing hard, and slowly walked up behind her mother. Then, with only a brief pause, she tilted herself and leaned her shoulder against hers. It was the absolute bare minimum that could be considered a hug, but that's what it was. She didn't enjoy hugs - any human contact that wasn't on her own, very specific terms, in fact - but Merlin's Beard did she need one right now. Her mother froze on the spot. Daphne felt her muscles seize up at the sudden contact. Inhaling sharply, she looked down to meet their eyes. Like her voice, her eyes held a swelling of emotion, but her expression seemed bewildered, as if not quite believing what she was seeing. Daphne opened her mouth, but no sound would come out. She silently cursed her vocal cords for their betrayal. Focusing on 'doing' rather than 'saying' something, she buried her face into her mother's hair.

The tears were flowing freely now. After a moment, she spoke the words she'd long been denying herself.

"I'm not the person I want to be, Mummy. I've made a lot of mistakes and…" she choked, "... and… and I always _tried_ to do what was right, but I'm not even sure whose side I'm on anymore. The lines have blurred and I don't know what I'm doing now. No matter what I do I keep digging myself a hole that I just can't get out of… and I don't want to do _this_ anymore!"

A pressure on her back pulled Daphne down. She seized up. A pair of lips touched her forehead, then she felt an arm on her back as her mother wrapped around her, holding the taller girl in a cradle like she was a child.

"Oh, Daphne… sweetpea, I wanted you to be happy. That's all I ever wanted."

The dampness coming to her forehead told her that her mother was also crying.

"I let you go with your father because that's what you choose to do… I never imagined it would end up like this. I am so sorry."

Daphne released a violent cough into her mother's neck, a result of forcing her words out.

"Neither did I," she mumbled.

For this brief second, she knew she was safe. Nothing could get her while she was in her mother's arms. There was an impregnable shield around her. The Dark Lord never existed, her father was but a distant memory.

It was false hope, but she knew that.

Just like the false hope that things would get better. Like the false hope the war would sort itself out before she left school. The false hope that she'd get to remain neutral in a war that was a black and white. The false hope she could ever be with the man that she fancied. The false hope that she could ever be happy - She'd spent so long fooling herself into thinking things would improve, not seeing that she was just setting herself up for disappointment when the truth was brutally beaten into her.

There was never any hope, she was always just too much of a coward to face her reality. She'd lied to herself and everyone around her, and now she was backed into a corner with no way out.

Daphne blinked a few times, trying to dab away at the wetness forming in her eyes. Her mother held her tighter than before, almost like she was going through the same revelation she was. She made strives to collect herself before they separated properly. As she pulled herself from the hug, her mother took her hands on her own. She wiped Daphne's tears away with a gentle hand, before running that same hand through the blonde's messy hair.

Her hand cradling her face, they held each other like that for a while.

"Stay the night, sweetpea. You can have Tracey's room... we don't have to talk if you don't want... Just as long as I know you're safe."

Trying to breath through the flood of tears, Daphne shook her head.

"Thank you, but… This isn't my home anymore."

She needed an escape from her current life, that much was true. But residing herself to the toxic environment her mum bred was no more an escape than it was a condemning. As much as the heartbreaking look on her mother's face convinced her otherwise, Daphne was set in her resolve. It seemed to take her mother a second to process what she'd just said, as she'd obviously been expecting a different answer.

Then, after another moment, she slowly nodded, and began to shrink away from her. The sight of the stump woman waddling away brought more tears to Daphne's eye, which was now leaking through her eye-patch.

"I'm sorry... Mummy..." she mumbled after her.

Her mother moved like she hadn't heard her. She took a scan of the room, paced back and forth a few times before silently exiting it all together. She was looking for something, Daphne guessed, and thanked her blessings.

Alone, she brought a hand to her face, the area her mother had just touched.

It was then she noticed her hands were shaking. It was all beginning to catch up to her now, she'd reached her limit. Fatigue was setting in and her heart had been bled dry. Jitters were making their way into her system, and the shadows on the corners of her vision started to dance and scheme against her. She didn't have long left.

"Do what you have to, I know I can't stop you. But apologise to yourself, Daphne, not me.. "

Her mother was in a different room, but as she spoke, it was the clearest she had ever heard her.

"Whatever path you're on that's taken you to such a dark place in your life… just know you always have a way out... I'll always be here for you, for as little or as much as you want me. You're your own person aside from your father, and I know you're not a bad person..."

She'd heard those words a thousand times, but hearing them come from another person's mouth did more for her than she thought it would. Daphne's hand clenched into a tight fist.

"... Please realise that before you do something awful and it's too late. You're _better_ than them."

Her mother returned and brought with her a barely-used pot of the purple fire-powder. Daphne nodded absentmindedly, her attention now on the pot before her. She took the small container in her hands and drew her eyes over to the over-sized fireplace on the wall opposite them.

Her exit was now closer than ever, yet as Daphne took a step towards it, a horrid, lurching feeling made itself known in her stomach. Her head moved on it's own, and her gaze returned back to her mother.

She looked at her - staring back was the woman that had caused her family so much pain in the past, but yet, also was her mother, the woman who undoubtedly loved her most in the world. Even when she was disgusted in what Daphne had become, she still helped her in her time of need. And in that time of need, it was her that she chose to come to. They couldn't trust each other, they were not allies in this war, but that had to mean something, didn't it?

Any chance of the four of them - Daphne, Benedict, Astoria and Moira - being a real family again, was a possibility that was long dead, undeniably. They were truly damaged, and far beyond repair. But yet, for the first time since before she could remember, Daphne wished that it didn't have to be that way.

When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.

"I didn't mean to cut you out of my life..."

Her mother smiled, but Daphne saw no happiness in it, "I know we argued... I know we had our differences, and me and your father even more so… but you're my daughter. You have a home with me, always."

Tonight they couldn't even begin to scratch the surface of what they'd need to do to begin to make things right, and definitely not while she was like this. Her body was shutting down. Her head had began rolling as she talked, Daphne doubted she'd even managed to keep her eyes fully open while talking this long. It hurt her to leave like this, and even more so that she couldn't explain herself, but she'd come too far to give up now.

Daphne inched slowly towards the fireplace. As she stepped inside, she offered her mother a weary smile. It was a false one, and only done to hide the true feelings inside her. Her mother knew this, and gave her a smile back of equal sadness. It was truly a grim example of mother like daughter.

"I'll write to you back more, I promise."

Her mother moved in closer. She had a different look on her face now. Daphne struggled to keep her head straight while looking at her.

"Your father is not to be trusted," she said seriously. "Do what you must, but if you feel, even for a second... that you're in danger, get yourself _out_. That's the _only_ promise I want from you tonight."

Daphne bit her lip, uneasy.

There was still so much she wanted to say. Stuff that she _needed_ to say.

"It's not that easy..."

Blackness was dotting in and out of her vision now.

Her mother shook her head, absolute.

"It's as easy as you make it, Daphne Greengrass."


	14. Double Double, Couple Trouble

Christmas was approaching Hogwarts. Snow was swirling against the frosted windows and Hagrid was already on the out-skirts of the forbidden forest, on his way to cut down the twelve Christmas trees that would soon after adorn the Great Hall. In a few short weeks festivities galore would be sweeping the castle, and the atmosphere would bring with it a much needed break for those within its walls. A breath of fresh-festive air was exactly what those whose lives had come to revolve around revision were in need of.

Harry in particular was looking forward to the Christmas holidays, even though they were still over a week away. It was going to be his first _proper_ holiday at Grimmauld place. This time it was him and Sirius with the house to themselves; the future he'd been longing for since promised such in his third year. Now that promise was finally on the horizon and the hint of normality to his over-complicated life was an exciting one. Considering his free-time these days were spent either revising, worrying over women or the future of the wizarding world, it was nice to have something to look forward to on the horizon. For the first time in weeks, he actually felt reasonably content with life.

His friends timetable were so full he could only talk to them on fleeting occasions; this was one of those times. Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was there, so Harry had joined her in the library, which meant that their conversations where now held in quiet whispers. They were only a table away from where he and Daphne used to revise together, unfortunately the stark difference in company stopped him feeling any of the nostalgia that should come with that.

"He's perfectly at liberty to kiss whomever he likes!"

He didn't answer, and pretended to be absorbed in a certain potions book he had recently taken a liking to. Determined to remain friends with both parties, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth tightly shut.

Apparently, at the same time Harry and Tracey had been having their heart-to-heart discussion, a lot had been going on elsewhere in the castle. He'd been given a brief, mostly-shouted catch up, but his basic understanding was in the aftermath of Ron's Quidditch victory he'd gotten off with Lavender Brown, and the two were now seeing each other, much to Hermione's displeasure. Whether or not the two had been seeing each other before the match and this was just when it came out, he couldn't tell, and wasn't about to start pushing for more information.

The worst part - why he kept mostly to himself - was Harry were actually quite proud of his best-friend for overcoming his women-fears. He felt bad that he hadn't had the chance to congratulate him for it, but that feeling quickly soured as he spent the last hour listening to Hermione tell him exactly why she _wasn't_ jealous about it. At this point even Harry felt mad at Ron for seeing somebody else, and had already grown the dislike Lavender, despite not ever actually sharing a conversation with her.

"I really couldn't care less, and you are _more_ than welcome to tell him that next time you see him. In fact, I employ you to!"

"I am _not_ an owl..." he mumbled jokingly into the pages of his book.

Hermione gave him a nasty look, he pretended not to see it.

"Does wolfsbane bloom only during a full moon or just whenever in Autumn?"

When he spoke, it came with a slightly hoarse-cracking of his voice, as would be expected after over an hour of humming and nodding. She shot him another dirty look.

"Harry, would you get your nose out of that book for just _one_ second?"

"I'm listening to you! I am! Just revising as well."

"You ought to start paying more attention to what goes on around you, you know."

"Come on," he scoffed at her, "Can't you just be happy I'm actually interested in a subject beyond Defence Against the Dark Arts for once?"

"Hmhmm…"

She mused him bitterly.

"If I'd known you'd be so readily seduced by an annotated textbook, you know I'd have let you read mine after lesson?"

"Do you also change things the books say and invent your own spells in the margins?"

Hermione shook her head dismissively. She then took out and unraveled a second roll of parchment onto the table they were working on and began scratching away with her quill, Harry watched her with his mind long away.

"Anyway… that tatty book wasn't what I was talking about. We're being watched, just so you know."

Harry stopped dead.

The second she'd finished speaking, he'd heard the unmistakable sound of a book falling from a shelf, followed by the pitter-patter of footsteps leading away from it. Hermione had heard it too, but merely watched him with a bemused expression. Harry's eyes shifted behind him, where he found no evidence of any on-looker, outside from a face-down book now adorning the ground.

When he turned back to his conversation, the bushy-haired girl sighed at him.

"Her name is Dominique Flamel, she transferred in from Beauxbatons earlier in the year."

He knew instantly of who she was talking about, he remembered Hagrid introducing her by name. Dominique Flamel - she was the Slytherin girl that Tracey was with when they found Katie Bell had been cursed. They'd only met briefly and, despite _possibly_ being on a date with Tracey (he had no intention of asking for clarification about that), she seemed quite taken with him. Even he, in his obliviousness with girls, could tell that.

But that wasn't why he peaked his eyebrow, or why he leaned in to ask for a double-clarification.

"What's she called?"

Hermione nodded knowingly, instantly picking up what he was asking.

"_Flamel_. It's been quite a while since we heard that name... She is the great-great, great-great-great-great, great-great-_great_-granddaughter of Nicolas Flamel, creator of the Philosopher's Stone…" she paused for several breaths along the way, "and she also fancies you, in case that wasn't obvious. She's new so I can only imagine your womanizer reputation hasn't reached her yet. Apparently she's trying to get you to ask her to Slughorn's Christmas party... Poor girl doesn't know what she has coming."

Harry forced out the most unironic, displeased laugh he was capable of.

"I've had _quite_ enough of Slytherin girls for one lifetime, thank you."

The last thing he needed was another factor piling itself onto the romantic paradox he'd boxed himself into. He was now at the point he was convinced he was never going to date again, and if he did, the very last person he'd be considering was someone else in Slytherin house.

Hermione gave a long, drawn out sigh.

"Since you seem completely unresponsive when I try to talk about _my_ problems… How is it going with Greengrass, anyway?"

Harry eyeballed her. Her tone had been off all day, but he couldn't quite figure out if she was trying to start an argument or genuinely trying to shift the subject matter. Deciding to risk it, he offered a genuine response.

"What you saw at Slughorns was it. Still won't talk to me and won't tell me why. Tracey agrees with me she's up to something, and we both think Malfoy is involved... To what degree, we don't know yet. But it means that that we saw in Knocturn Alley _wasn't_ all just in my head, thank you very much for your support on that."

Hermione lifted her head from her scroll and frowned at him.

"Tracey _Davis_?"

Harry stared back at her. Of all things he expected her to pull him up on in that sentence, a clarification over Tracey's name was not it.

"Yeah. We've become mates," he answered.

After a second, he decided to change his wording.

"... we play Qudditch together, sometimes. She's funny."

Hermione nodded, returning her concentration to her essay.

"Ah yes, I saw her losing against you last match… You ought to know I haven't heard good things about her... I reiterate, you should watch yourself."

It was Harry's turn to frown.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I haven't the faintest, Harry," she answered again in that same matter-of-fact-tone she had become known for, "I just know a lot of girls in our year don't like her."

"Any of those reasons that_ aren't_ the fact that she's in Slytherin?"

"I imagine the fact that she's best friends with one of the most-hated girls in our year isn't enough?"

Harry didn't have an answer. Hermione shot him a follow-up I-told-you-so glance.

In truth, he had his own reasons for not wanting to trust Tracey, but he very much doubted Hermione knew her well enough for them to be talking about the same ones.

Then again, it couldn't be ignored that their recent talk had done a lot for him. He'd come out of it with nothing but positive thoughts, even though the subject matter itself had been a deathly-serious one. It had been refreshing talking to someone who wasn't about to declare him paranoid or jealous; in that regard, Tracey had been a better friend to him of late than either Ron or Hermione had.

Finally he had a point of reference with where he stood, he knew he wasn't insane, and that his fears had been valid.

Harry shifted around on his seat.

"Right. Any other Slytherin-girls-in-our-year-that-are-out-to-get-me you wanna to warn me about?"

"None else that I am aware of. Though one from Gryffindor, actually; word on the corridor is Romilda Vane is trying to sneak you a love potion. At this point if you can make things up with Cho, you'll have quite a nice little harem going for you."

Her voice indicated a joke, only she wasn't smiling.

Whenever he and Daphne used to study together like this, he never remembered it being quite as hostile.

"_Which_ corridor is it you're getting all this information from, exactly?" he quickly shot back.

"I barely see you these days, and suffice to say it takes my utmost effort to even tolerate being in the same room as Ronald… I've expanded my boundaries and began speaking to people outside our usual social circle. Turns out to have been quite an enlightening experience. Did you know Hannah Abbot is seeing a muggle girl that her parents don't know about?"

Harry struggled internally. He couldn't quite figure out if they are arguing or not right now. Hermione's tone would definitely indicate so. Plus he'd said stuff to her he would never normally have the gaul to say aloud, yet she seemed completely preoccupied writing her essay and likewise, he didn't feel any animosity in the air.

"Right, so don't trust Daphne, don't trust Tracey, avoid Dominique and Romilda, got it," he counted them off on his fingers, "Anything else in my life you want to comment on?"

At that moment Madam Pince, appeared around the corner and entered their conversation bubble. She crossed quickly over to them, wearing an expression as old and decrepit as the books on her shelves.

"Library is closed! Out, Mr Potter! Hope to see you again, Miss Granger."

She turned to Harry, and her face turned more sour, if possible.

"_What_ have you done to that book?"

Harry hastily snatched up his potions book, just as the Madam made a lunge for it with her claw-like hand.

"It's mine! Not the libraries! Calm down!"

She considered him for a second, squinting, before sulking off back around the corner away from them. Hermione's concentration broke from her essay so she could send another dirty look, this time to the book in his hands.

"... please do return that ratty old thing, Harry. I can smell the Horklump juice on it from here."

Harry grimaced and protectively pulled the book closer to him, as though shielding it's ears away from her hurtful words. Hermione moved her book bag onto the table and began to gather her things.

"Why's she kicking us out early?" he asked.

"I was just finishing, actually. Timing couldn't have been more perfect."

He frowned at her.

"You just started?"

Hermione frowned back at him, scanned the room with her eyes and then gestured to a clock in the corner.

"We've been here nearly two hours, Harry."

He paused and blinked a few times.

So they had been.

He made haste to collect his bits and pieces together, and then hurried off after Hermione and she began to make her way to the library exit.

"I'm going to talk to Sirius about the book, and about Daphne. He knows my situation with Dumbledore. Hope everything works out with you and Ron."

Hermione didn't vocally answer, or give any form of recognition, but he felt her gratitude all the same. Together the two made their way out of the libraries exit and out into the deserted, torch-lit corridors. Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, Hermione spoke up.

"Speaking of which, we mentioned earlier, _do_ you happen to have a date for Slughorn's party?"

"Depends if you're asking me?"

"I'm not," she laughed, "I've already said yes to someone. Sorry to break your heart."

Harry smiled and played along. He false gasped.

"Whatever will I do now?"

Hermione smirked back at him.

"You have a plethora of thirsty fangirls to choose from, you'll manage just fine, I'm sure."

"So who're you going with?"

With an eye-roll, Hermione said, "Don't make me say it."

"Victor Krum coming to pay us a visit, by any chance?"

"Do you think if _Victor_ was an option that I'd still be bitching over Ron?"

The second the words left her mouth, she looked away in embarrassment. If Harry had to guess, she had just exposed what she thought was a very well-kept secret. Deciding to spare her the shame, he moved on like he hadn't heard her.

"I thought bringing a date was optional, anyway. I didn't have anyone in mind."

"Of course it's optional... I just can't imagine it being a good look for you if everyone else there brings someone and you don't. The Slug Club is a surprisingly respected networking event. You know he's got Skye Parkin guesting-talking?"

Harry nodded.

"I've heard."

He thought on it for another second.

He really didn't care for their choice of conversation, but Hermione had a good point. Dumbledore wanted him in Slughorns good books, good impressions were everything. Not to mention the idea of turning up on his own didn't thrill him.

"I'll probably just ask Luna, or something? Honestly, the last thing I want to think about right now is trying to find a date."

"Why not just ask Greengrass?" she asked. "She'll be going anyway?"

Harry shot her a glance.

"You really don't understand the situation I'm in with her, do you? She won't even _talk_ to me, Hermione."

"Well, I _do_ know you're not going to get anywhere by staying quiet and letting her walk all over you. Trust me... I'm still adjusting to that truth myself."

Her tone dropped with her last line, and as they crossed onto the seventh floor, she gave him a sympathetic shrug.

"I doubt Greengrass is going with anyone, anyway... half the school is scared to death of her. People are still talking about her fight with Pansy last year. Can't imagine breaking your nose on our first day back helped matters, either."

"It wasn't her, for the last time!"

"What the rumours decide is true isn't up to you, Harry," she shook her head. "I know I've not really been there for you the past few weeks, but that is my advice… as late as it may be. You're already going to be seeing her at the party anyway, you might as well try to get on good terms. Who knows, maybe _she'll_ be there without a date, _you'll_ be there without a date… And everything will just work itself out."

A growing distaste in Harry's stomach that was making itself ever present.

"Can we not talk about this anymore? I know you're just trying to help but… it's a bit late, and I've already had this conversation with somebody else. I could honestly do without thinking about her right now."

As they reached the Fat Lady, Harry spoke the new festive-themed password to the Fat Lady and the portrait clicked upon before them. As he entered the passage-way, he realised he was walking alone now.

"Are you not coming in?"

Hermione tried to peer past him into the common room. She shifted on the spot uncomfortably.

"Are they done yet?"

His eyes moved up the corridor, where low and behold, he spotted Ron and Lavender Brown sitting entwined on the same chair in front of the fireplace. He turned back to Hermione, awkwardly, and bobbed his head.

She gave a dishevelled sigh.

"Then... I'll be in the Great Hall, reading."

"At six o'clock?"

Hermione waved him off and began down the corridor on her own.

"See you when I next see you, Harry."

Something in her voice wanted him to go after her. Something else in it told him that was a bad idea.

Alone, Harry crossed into the common room and was welcomed by the warm glow of the festively-themed fireplace. His entry hadn't gone unnoticed, Ron looked up at him from their position, while Lavender simply giggled harder.

Ron frowned at him.

"Hermione not with you?"

Harry gave a low-effort shrug back towards the corridor.

"She's in the Great Hall, reading."

Lavender stopped her giggling, and answered for Ron.

"At six o'clock?"

He offered little more than a nod and made his way up to the boys dorm. The sight of the two cuddling together did just as much bad for him as it had Hermione, which he hadn't expected. He had nothing against Lavender personally, and nothing but happiness for Ron. Yet his stomach had churned and he felt awkward on his own feet.

In truth it probably wasn't seeing the two of them together that had bugged him. Seeing _anyone_ together would have probably set him off.

He had a lot to look forward to these coming holidays, but he still couldn't shake the lingering, sour taste in his stomach he got whenever Daphne was brought up. His talk with Tracey had done a lot to settle his anxieties, but for every fear it settled, a dozen more had risen in it's place. She was in danger, and carrying on his life while he knew that just felt immoral on so many levels.

Was his opinion bias because he still had feelings for her? Most definitely. Would he have put up with getting thrown through so many hoops if it was anyone else? Definitely not.


	15. Hedgehog's Dilemma

She'd been having a dream.

She'd been flying and fighting, and fighting some more. Somehow, in the dream, she could do whatever she wanted. In the dream, whatever every action she pulled was simply the correct thing to do in that moment in time, and it was simply because she'd wanted to do it. In the dream there was no rules, just instinct, and acting on her instincts led her only on the righteous path.

_"Stop!"_

Daphne jolted awake.

She was back in her dorm bed, hunched over in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Her arm dangled off the side of the bed, in a deeper sleep than she had been at any point of the night. Her breathing was quick, but her panic began to settle as the familiar setting calmed her. All of that felt like it could have simply been a dream, but as the pain in her chest occurred to her, that hope slipped reluctantly away. She'd been sweating, making her hospital gown cling to her in a most horrible sensation. She'd been awake seconds and already hated everything.

She slowly dragged herself into a sitting position, leaving a damp patch behind where she had lain. She crossed her legs and hunched over her knees, concentrating to fight off a dry-heave. Pulling the hospital-gown off over her head and feeling the moist fabric leave her skin was a bittersweet release, then she tossed it to the floor beside Merula's discarded clothes from last night.

Normally she'd panic at oversleeping, but her perfect attendance record was already broken anyway now.

When she had finally collapsed onto her bed last night she hadn't even bothered setting an alarm. She had just wanted to stop being awake and nothing else was relevant.

Brushing hair out of her face, she found it matted against her dry crusted-over blood. At some point in the night she'd bled through her eyepatch and onto her face, hair and pillow. She repressed a solid urge to gag.

Throwing her covers off and dropping her feet off the side of the bed, they did a short wander around on the floor before snaking their way inside her slippers. She steadied her hand against the bedside table and pulled herself slowly to her feet. She had to take it easy, the underside of her feet were covered in blisters, and the tight bandage around her chest felt like the only thing holding her together.

As she stepped into her bathroom, the cold air attacked her like a physical blast. Closing in on the mirror, she paused to look at herself, and found the sight staring back at her as gruesome as she had been expecting. The bandage over her eye was barely visible beneath matted hair and crusted blood. It had leaked from it and coated half of her face. Daphne began to peel the bandage from her face. It felt like clawing cement off her skin, and sent disgusted chills over her half-naked body.

As she dropped it into the sink, her heart sank.

"What the…"

A spiral-shaped metallic wire weaved in and out of the surface of her temple, sealing together the large, bloodied-up gash that was the source of her bleeding. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.

She lifted a hand to touch it, then quickly recoiled from the pain.

The Muggles methods were out-dated, but where they really this barbaric? What had they done to her? Was this gruesome sight on her face their excuse for surgery? The face she had taken so much pride in over the years was ruined. The skin she constantly scrubbed and took care of, the eyebrows she kept plucked and kept tidy, all of it was a mess. It was a botched, messy, frankenstein-looking mess.

Tears began to well up in her good eye.

She looked like a monster.

* * *

Getting a shower and cleaning herself up was a priority, but by the old gods, her stomach felt the emptiest it had ever felt. She smacked her lips together a few times. Sleeping through lessons was one thing, but meals, on the other hand, was not an exciting prospect. The Great Hall served food until late, but she'd be having the scraps left behind by her classmates. Worst-case scenario she could always make herself something in the dorm kitchen, but it wouldn't give her the fill she craved right now.

"WHAT IN _MERLIN'S NAME_ HAPPENED TO YOU?!"

Her Head of House was certainly making a startling habit of bursting into her room unannounced while she was half-dressed, Daphne noticed. She stared at him with her mind a million miles away, as she continued to dry her hair with her wand.

"I fell."

Whether or not she intended it as a joke, Professor Snape didn't take it as such.

"We thought you were _dead_!" he spat furiously at her. "Your father and I have been going _ballistic_ trying to find you!"

Somehow, for some reason, everything that she'd been through recently had ridden her of all fears she had about being in trouble. She doubted there was anything he could do with words that would be worse than the physical torture she'd already been through. Being on the receiving end of a few nasty insults now felt like a mercy.

She watched the Professor with dead, uncaring eyes, almost daring him to make her feel something.

"You've found me."

Professor Snape fumed harder. He was marching back and forth across her dorm room, muttering relentless to himself. His words were harsh, but she didn't shrink away from them. Daphne kept the towel secured tightly around her chest as she folded her hair into a bun. She kept her montone, expressionless gaze on him.

"We assumed you'd been captured by the Aurors! There's a full infiltration plan going forward to get you back this second! I told you - I gave you _specific_ instructions - to report back to me when you returned, stupid girl!"

She sighed in annoyance.

"If you're _just_ here to shout at me…"

"Talk, now!" he snapped loudly, shouting over her. "And you better make it good!"

She was being overly difficult with him, she knew. If she was in any better mood she might have even taken enjoyment out of seeing him get so wound up, but reality wasn't that kind to her. She knew she was doing it because getting shouted at was still a better alternative to having to relive what she'd gone through last night.

It was a nihilistic thing to do. She was just doing it to buy herself some time, which was only putting off the inevitable. No amount of enjoyment from the Professor's displeasure would make what she had to do next any easier, and it was a fruitless hope to try and put it off any further.

Slowly but surely, she began to divulge everything.

She went through all of it. Starting in her dorm room to telling her father that she wanted no part of it, to meeting Merula, then the messy blur of a battle, everything that happened in the muggle world - which was actually what he actually remembered with the most clarity. It must have taken ten minutes, which sounded a lot shorter than how it felt to her. Each word was becoming a struggle to say and every development felt heavier and heavier on her shoulders.

By the time she left the recollection in a place she felt comfortable with, her will had broken. Her breaths came in heavy pants and if she hadn't already cried herself dry the night before, she'd probably be tearing up by now. She locked a blurry eye with Professor Snape across the floor.

"You left her in a _muggle_ hospital?"

Only just managing to hold herself together, her mouth dropped and she stared at him in disbelief.

"I _dragged_ her to a muggle hospital, yes!" she shot back. "I saved her life when the Carrows left us both for dead! _They_ were the ones that triggered the alarm! I saved us from being captured!"

She made extra points throughout her story to emphasis her good will; the fact that she didn't _have_ to save Merula, but chose to anyway. She was very vocal about the fact that at no point were her actions unjust that night; she may be an emotional mess right now, but was determined that under no circumstances was she going to be held accountable for what went wrong. She had done everything that was in her power and even more than what was expected of her.

Praise would be the only feedback she was accepting right now.

Professor Snape was quiet for a moment as he considered the girl in front of him with a beady-eyed grimace.

"That's quite the opposite tale to what they've fed the Dark Lord... The Carrows claim it was you - _specifically_ \- that attacked early, and then proceeded to flee when the fighting broke out."

Daphne brought her bottom jaw forward, clenching her fists.

"Those dirty, lying…"

The Professor's hand shot up dismissively, silencing her on the spot.

"Your mother... Moira, did you divulge any of our... operations, to her?"

She glared at him, her anger instantly redirected. Her Head of House was never exactly known for his empathy, but his relentless was surprising even her today.

"I could barely _talk_ to her without being sick. Your secrets are safe for another day, don't worry."

She worded her reassurance as though it were an insult. He pulled one last expression and then moved suddenly from his position to the other side of the room. Daphne took the opportunity to quickly snatch her dressing gown up and slip it over her shoulders.

"Give me the address you took Snyde to," Professor Snape spoke firmly, not looking back at her. "I will search for her myself. I should take it you haven't contacted your father since returning?"

She shook her head, then after seeing his attention was elsewhere, spoke up more clearly this time.

"You weren't in your office when I got back, I went straight to bed. Nobody saw me and I haven't spoken to anyone other than you."

When the Professor still didn't turn to address her, she craned her neck to see his face properly. He was still as a gargoyle, and looked to be in careful consideration for something internally. His behaviour right now was odd even for him it was beginning to feel like there was a three way conversation going on between him, her and another person that only he could see.

Part of her was glad he'd stopped yelling momentarily, the other part of her just wanted him the hell out of her dormitory. He'd come at her when she was at her most vulnerable. She was still only half dressed. The feeling of exposure wasn't helping keep her walls up against him, both mentally and metaphorically. She stepped out of the shower and had barely finished applying new bandages when he had come barging inside; it had been a scramble to make herself decent in time.

Daphne shuffled around on the bed, uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?"

His voice sounded like a child being made to thank a relative for a present they didn't want; forced and unappreciative. It figured that question was among the last he would ask.

"I have concussion, hypothermia, cracked ribs, blisters _all_ over my feet and stitches on my face. How do you _think_ I'm doing?"

Her words came in the heaviest, most sour sentence she had ever said in her entire life.

And yet it didn't even earn her a double glance.

"You're forbidden from going on any more Death Eater missions," his voice came suddenly from the corner of the room.

She paused. For whatever reason, that didn't click in her head immediately as a good thing. It was exactly what she wanted... which was the problem. It couldn't be that easy.

Enforcing her persona again to a cold, uncaring exterior, she returned to the conversation.

"Is that the Dark Lord's wish?"

Her voice shook more than she intended it. Professor Snape turned back to face her, this time he was sporting the face that could rivala Basilisk.

"It's _my_ wish," he said. "The Dark Lord shall be made to understand… your father and I will take the full force of his wrath, but be aware, it's the Carrows word against yours. You should be thankful you have people to look out for you… others would not be so _lucky_ in your position."

In contrast to their well-meaning, his words lingered in the air like they were nasty insult.

Again, she found herself unable to settle on one emotion. Part of her wanted to rejoice, but the relief she felt had to be kept subtle for fear of exposing her true nature. And the other another, more logical side of her, told her this development was anything but a reward. She was stumped on how to feel now, and recounting her story had taken away a chunk of her self confidence.

It was all becoming too much for her again, now she desperately wanted to return to her peaceful isolation.

"Thank you?" she offered quietly.

The Professor moved back across the room again, this time to his original position beside the door.

"The Dark Lord will not enjoy being pressured into mercy…" he spoke slowly. "For your sake, stay out of trouble."

She kept her eyes glued firmly on him, and a washing-over of relief swept her as finally turned to make his exit.

"Go to the hospital wing and get Madam Pomfrey to fix the mess on your face. Do you have lessons today?"

It took a second for his words to register with her. She shook her head, and after a moment, followed up with a question of her own.

"What time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

She strained, concentrating for an answer.

"... Transfiguration, I believe."

"I expect you in. You're not to tell anyone where you've been."

Daphne gave a slow nod of acknowledgement, rather than agreement.

"Yes... Professor."

Another moment of stillness lingered over them.

Mentally, she was begging him to leave the room. She was only just holding onto her growing flood of emotions and each second was chipping away at that restraint. Professor Snape on the other hand, seemed to be delaying it at every opportunity. Whether through deliberate, malicious intention, or something else entirely, she didn't know, and the answer she didn't much care for either, she just wanted him out.

"Your prophecy..." he began quietly.

"Destroyed."

Without showing his face, he sighed.

"I recall you telling me such… I just think that you needed reminding of that, as well."

She squinted.

What did that mean?

Why was he choosing now, of all times, to bring it up?

With those final words, he left her, and thousand emotions swept over Daphne at once.

* * *

It took a long while to hype herself up into leaving her dorm room again, where she would unfortunately find that the rest of her day wouldn't go nearly as straightforward as her conversation with Professor Snape had. The consolation that she wouldn't have to go through any more Death Eater missions began to wear off as she noticed more and more attention falling her way.

The medicine Madam Pomfrey had given her worked wonders and in a short amount of time she was feeling relatively back to normal, though that relief was quickly tainted. Her absence in the morning hadn't gone unnoticed, then turning up to afternoon lessons limping and wearing an eye-patch had accelerated rumours.

An antisocial bubble formed around her as she limped the corridor to lesson, with wandering eyes and whispers never far behind it. After the fourth time sending glares to stop someone, she abandoned trying to resist them. It wasn't like she was unused to being the social renegade these days, rumours had never truly died down about her and Harry and now they'd been given an influx. In just the span of walking from the Great Hall to the second floor, she'd already overheard the terms 'murder', 'werewolf' and 'Azakaban' thrown out about her. She'd respond to them the same way she responded to them in the past, with blissful ignorance.

When Daphne dropped onto her seat in Transfiguration lesson it was with a heavy impact, and she was quick to bury her nose into her textbook.

One would think that with all the yearly drama going on in Hogwarts, the student population could find something more interesting to talk about than the personal life of one of their peers. Not to mention that a little sympathy for her state wouldn't have been too amiss, either. Of course she'd turn her nose up at anyone offering assistance with carrying books or opening doors, but it was nobody _had_ offered that bothered her. Good to know that even in her time of need, her classmates wouldn't spit on her if she was on fire.

Let them look, she thought sourly to herself. Let them think whatever they wanted, after what she'd been through, she didn't care about people's pathetic opinions anymore. Irrelevant peoples were nothing to her, it was about time she recognised this.

She was alive and she'd like to see any of them survive the night that she'd just through, not to mention still be able to make it to class the next day.

"Today, class, we will be putting the human transfiguration spell, _Crinus Muto_, into practice," Professor McGonagall's sharp, bride-like voice brought an unusual sense of familiarity to Daphne, one that she didn't think she would have missed.

_"What the hell happened to you?"_ a heavy, familiar whisper came over her shoulder.

A heavy feeling came to life in Daphne's bowels, and it had nothing to do with the medication that had been twisting her guts into knots all morning. Now she had two reasons for feeling sick.

She kept her eyes firmly in her textbook.

_"It doesn't matter."_

Everyone else could go to Tartarus. It was incredible how rapidly she'd gone from putting on her best face for others to see to daring them to look twice at her, and how little this change had affected her. But the line in the sand was now upon her; Tracey wasn't like everyone else. She was a different matter altogether.

She was one of the few people that Daphne genuinely cared for and knew the feelings were reciprocated. It was true that Tracey's overemotional attachment often just complicated and bogged down things, but what they had was special, and she was one of the few people whose opinion of her did still matter.

"The spell is only designed for small changes to the human appearance, nothing beyond the abilities of a Metamorphmagus. As such we will be attempting to replicate..."

_"What's wrong with your eye?"_

_"Infection."_

She was in no mood to relay the events of the previous night again. Definitely least of all to someone as narrow minded and quick to judge as she was. Telling her now would cause more problems, she would freak out and Daphne didn't think she even had it in herself to relive, it even if she did want to. In a few days - maybe a week - when she'd moved past it and come up with a convincing lie, maybe then.

But believing that was an option would be fooling herself. She knew nothing that happened next was going to be easy. The two rarely butted heads, like actually butted, but when they did, they butted hard. Tracey was the unstoppable force and Daphne, the immovable object. There was an argument coming, she could feel it.

_"Daphne, talk to me."_

_"We're in lesson."_

If it was anyone else she wouldn't care, she could tell them to mind their own business or failing that, to get lost. Tracey had a special way of getting what she wanted, though. The tension between the two of them had slowly been brewing since the start of the year, most of it passive aggressive, but even Daphne understood the signs that now she was crossing a line. If one of them didn't budge there was going to be a confrontation, and a nasty one at that.

Daphne wanted to move forward. When she thought about where she was, and what she was doing, merely a few hours ago, it churned her stomach. She was not going to revisit that place anytime soon without a fight, and it came to that, then it would be a fight she wouldn't loose.

* * *

"Daphne Greengrass, you talk to me _right_ now."

Things culminated in the common room. Apparently, Tracey caught onto her scheme to linger behind after lesson. The dungeon was already empty on all sides when she got in. She thought she'd won at avoiding the confrontation, but as she tried passing between the leather couches on the way to the dormitories, just as she was so close to returning to her valued isolation, Tracey appeared from her blind spot. When she spoke it was with a tone that begged a challenge.

Daphne turned, cautiously, with her eyebrow raised.

"I beg your pardon?"

She was wearing a rare look of seriousness. She was always good at coming across intimidating when she wanted to be, and it was because such a stone cold expression looked unnatural sitting on her normally bubbly face. It annoyed her how much she resembled their mother like that.

"You promised to me at the start of this year that you weren't in any danger."

Despite her face, her words were gentle. That did not help matters for Daphne, who desperately wanted to avoid all of this.

"You've broken that promise, and now I want to know what's goin' on."

"Look, Tracey…" an exasperated sigh escaped her lips, "I _really_ don't want to have this conversation…"

Her words trailed off in silence and her face collapsed into her best, pleading expression. Sympathy was a rare card for Daphne to pull, but she could do it convincingly. It was only partly a facade, as she genuinely did have no desire for this confrontation.

Tracey didn't make any further movement. Daphne turned back on her way, but only then did something happen. A harsh zipping sound shot by her ears, followed by a change in the air density that was out right disorientating for her to experience. Losing focus for a second, when she came back, she found the leather couches had moved from their positions to block her path.

She shot back around, the facade over.

"Don't you _dare_ raise your wand at me!"

Tracey, whose wand was pointed at the furniture and face solid as a stone, didn't budge a muscle.

"You can't keep runnin' away from this…" she spoke quietly, but with a solidarity to her voice, "... I want you to tell me _exactly_ what's goin' on with you, Daffy. I'm sick to death of being on the sidelines. I'm not sittin' down and watchin' you ruin yourself."

Daphne waved her off dismissively, more annoyed this time around. She was still determined things weren't going to escalate, but was also completely gobsmacked and reeling back from the fact Tracey had used magic against her.

"I don't need this, Tracey, I don't want an argu-"

"Tough! It's a conversation we're havin'!"

Daphne's face dropped. Tracey had shouted that; her words echoed through the empty dungeon a number of times. Even from here, she could spy the girls chest rising and falling with each breath. Her voice had betrayed her and Daphne could see how terrified the girl was.

"Right now!" she continued. "We're goin' somewhere in private - so nobody else will hear - and then you're goin' to tell me exactly what you've been doin'! You're in _danger_, Daphne, I'm tryin' to help you! Just talk to me, for god's sake!"

Daphne hissed at the girls use of wording. Her good eye did another wander of the room to check they had no chance of getting over heard, since Tracey apparently had all filters off tonight.

"Keep your voice down!" she snapped.

The soggy feeling in her stomach was back and worse than ever.

"I'm handling things. You're trying to help, I know, but you are the _last_ person I need pryin-""

"You obviously _can't_ handle things! Look at you!"

She gestured to Daphne's face, and the eye patch that was taking up half of it.

Daphne exhaled deeply. Tracey was unrelenting, she knew there was no amount of talking that would get her to stand down right now.

She had no argument left; because for all intents and purposes, Tracey was absolutely in the right to be annoyed.

Even as kids she had a habit of sticking her nose where it didn't belong and believing she was entitled to information outside of her boundaries, but this time it was different. Daphne had made the promise and broken it, and now she was being the awkward one over it. If Tracey knew what she was going through, she'd understand, but she didn't, and Daphne couldn't hold that ignorance against her.

On a normal day, with a normal amount of effort, this would be the point where Daphne would linger and try to reason with her. She'd appeal to her better nature, and through an argument, the two would reach some kind of compromise. It was the way things had gone when she had first started seeing Harry, and if she was in a better mood, it's how things would have gone this time too.

But as she looked Tracey up and down, with her temper ever growing, she only saw a person who was pushing into something that she had no business in.

"I'm going to bed."

"No, you're not!"

Tracey moved this time, without the assistance of her wand, to physically block her path. Daphne stared her down.

"Tracey, I'm being nice. We _aren't_ having this conversation... Now get out of my way."

She glared back, meeting her eyes with an Ice Queen stare down of her own.

"You can't keep runnin' from this..."

Daphne exhaled again, but this time it came out as a low, throaty growl. If she wanted to try her at her own game, then Tracey was about to learn why _she_ was the Ice Queen.

"Fine. Ten points from Slytherin for disobeying a direct order from a Prefect. Now move."

Her words changed the tone of the room instantly. Tracey's face shattered at last. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped on the spot. She blinked, doing a double take, almost as if she hadn't heard her properly the first time.

"You can't do that!" her voice cracked. "You're seriously gonna take points from your _own_ house just to prove a point?"

Daphne, meanwhile, kept her glare going strong.

"Twenty points."

_"Davis, move!"_

The voice hadn't come from either of them. The two turned their heads on the spot, only to spy Pansy and Millicent lingering nervously from the kitchen doorway.

With Tracey's head was turned, Daphne slipped silently right by her. She didn't wait to see what the girl had to say next, or to see her reaction to not getting what she wanted, because as she crossed through the corridor to her dormitory, she was already having to blink away the tears she had welling.

_"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS LIKE THIS?!"_ came shouted after her.


	16. Atonement

_Dearest Daughter,_

_An accurate version of the story has finally reached me about your actions the night of the Longinus Heist. I knew from the start what the Carrows were spewing was false, but given you had all but vanished entirely from the scene, mine was a difficult argument to prove. _

_First and foremost, I must congratulate and applaud your bravery in time of crisis. Apparition is a skill not many can perform at your age, not to mention the power involved holding off multiple Aurors at once. Merula Snyde has not yet been located, but rest assured when she is, I'm confident she will have a similar feeling of gratitude. You lived up to the family name and have proven yourself a witch to be reckoned with in front of others, for that I am and will always be eternally proud and grateful. You will find my appreciation come incarnate in your next Gringotts allowance. _

_Onto the more pressing issue… The Dark Lord is anything but happy. Despite the good you did and mine and Severus's attempt at defusing the situation, he still feels you acted unjustly. I suspect he does not believe the Carrows version of the events, but I can say fairly confidently that regardless, he does not approve of your decision to desert the attack. He was already displeased with the lack of development between yourself and Harry Potter, I worry this may act as the straw to break the camel's back. _

_It is for your own safety that for the time being I strongly suggest you remain inside the Hogwarts protection wards; you are not to return to Greengrass Woodhouse this winter break. The Dark Lord has a reputation for how he treats those who fail him and I would never forgive myself if something were to happen to you. Astoria shall return home and Winky, as always, will still be available to you throughout the holidays. She will deliver you your presents and any other items from home that you may wish. __Try to remain as unproblematic as possible in the meantime. __Do whatever you can to get yourself back on Harry Potter's good side; at this point I am convinced it will be the only thing to get you back in the Dark Lord's good books. As your father it pains me to give you such a request, especially now we find ourselves the last in our blood linage, but we must all make sacrifices for the greater good. __I remind you, Severus Snape is your only ally in the castle, you should trust him with your life. _

_The Sword of Damocles is swinging above all of our heads, Daphne. We all best remain clear of it when the inevitable, painful drop happens. _

_You're in my heart, forever and always,_

_Your Father_

* * *

Why was she so allergic to making good decisions, truly?

If she'd pushed more, if she'd had _actually _stood up for herself, she might have escaped having to go on the mission that night. And yesterday, if she'd actually grown a pair and faced the consequences of her actions, she might actually still have a single friend left in the castle or maybe even a home to go back to. If she'd argued - if she'd _truly _argued - and not just shied away from the conflict, she could have convinced her father against joining the ranks.

Daphne Greengrass was a coward.

Being better than others was a lifestyle she enjoyed - it made her feel respected - but it was a facade. The opposite was true about her. She didn't want people looking _down _on her. Getting the best marks in lesson wasn't so she could feel good, or educate herself, it was so she didn't feel less than the others. She didn't isolate herself from everyone because they '_weren't worth her time'_ like she claimed, it was so she could remain unproblematic in their eyes.

Joining the Death Eaters weren't an attempt to bring balance to the two sides, it was the cowardice in her that prevented her from letting daddy down.

The reason she'd been so dead set against seeking help wasn't for the compassionate, selfless reasons she claimed it to be. It was the same reason why she couldn't look her mother in the eye, why she had removed herself from Harry's life and why she fought so adamantly against Tracey's help, even though she desperately needed it. The long awaited truth - the reality that she had been denying even herself - was she ashamed of who she'd become.

She'd just gotten so far into the lie that she'd started believing it herself.

It was because the idea of Tracey or Harry's face when she showed them the sharp, blackened tattoo on her forearm… made her skin crawl. She didn't want them, or anyone, to see her like that. She couldn't admit that she'd lost and at this point had jumped through hoops to convince herself otherwise. It was a realisation she'd simultaneously been aware of for a long time now, and yet, also living in blissful ignorance of. She had to keep up her own mental image of herself, and when others conflicted with that image, she had pushed them away. _That _was the control that she had over her life. She was the reason she was alone, nobody else. As much as she wanted to hate her father, the Dark Lord, or even Professor Snape, it was now past the point of putting the blame on others.

The Ice Queen that she had convinced herself and so many others that she was, simply didn't exist.

It was with this mind, alive on adrenaline and with a heavy heart, Daphne slipped out of her dormitory room in the early hours of the next morning.

She was acting almost on autopilot. She wasn't planning her actions out as she often did, just following through with an instinct that she knew was right. It was freeing, and reminiscent of how she felt helping Harry escape Professor Umbridge's clutches last year. Now, just like then, her brain was out the window and her heart was forging it's own path ahead.

Tracey was important to her. When she thought about losing her, it wasn't the lingering depression and abandonment that assaulted her like with Harry, it was frustration at herself. After all they had been through together, both in and out of Hogwarts, it wasn't going to end over something so pathetically trivial. Not to mention with how much Tracey had pissed her off in the past, the idea it was _her _behaviour to tear them apart was almost a comical one.

Friends having fights weren't that unusual, she still had a way back, she just needed to act accordingly. Harry and his friends seemed practically inseparable, yet she seemed to remember him telling her a good portion of their fourth year they'd spent not talking. She wasn't going to be like that. She excelled in everything that she did, and friendship was going to be one of them.

It was about time she started being the friend that Tracey had been to her all this time.

Daphne knocked on the dorm room opposite hers. A voice from inside answered and she allowed herself in.

"Morning," she said gently.

Tracey was already up but still in bed. She looked almost as surprised to see Daphne as Tabatha looked annoyed for having her stroke-session interrupted. She gave an awkward half-nod back at her.

"Hey."

Daphne moved sparsely into her room. She walked with a confident strut, completely oblivious to the awkward air around her.

"Wanna go on a date?"

It must have taken a second for the words to register properly in Tracey's head, and even when they had, she looked like she'd misheard them. She squinted at her for moment with an unreadable expression, then eventually forced out a risque laugh.

"Interested in someone else, sorry. You should have asked sooner."

Even with her flat face, Daphne could hear the joking in her tone. Comedy always had been the key to Tracey's heart. She fought the urge to smile.

At that moment Tabatha let out an unusually loud sound and hopped off the bed, running quickly over to the door she had left slightly agape. Daphne moved to the side of Tracey's bed and sat beside her feet.

"Horace is hosting a Christmas party that's coming up soon. We're all expected to bring somebody."

Tracey frowned back at her.

"Christmas-do already? Wasn't Halloween like last week?"

"Skye Parkin and Gwenog Jones will be going… I know you're big on Quidditch, I thought you'd like the opportunity to meet them?"

Let's get one thing straight, Daphne was _not _bribing her into stopping being mad. She simply had the opportunity to give Tracey something that would make her happy and decided now was the time to give it to her. She was probably going to ask her to be her plus one regardless of their argument. And if Tracey still she wanted to remain mad after that… even though Daphne knew that wouldn't be the case... then she would be fine with it.

Tracey's eyes lit up at the name drops, then they closed in cautiously.

"You _actually _askin' me?"

"Well, it depends if you have anything _appropriate _to wear," she said then with a heavy sigh, added, "I'm not bringing you if you're going to come in jeans and a hoodie."

Tracey cracked a wicked smile.

"Wigtown Wanderers pajamas is a no, then?"

The two shared a smile, then Tracey moved to wiggle out from under her covers and predictably, she was sporting the very clothes she'd just joked about.

"Fancy clothes…" she hopped off the bed and thought on the spot, "... I have what I wore to the Yule Ball?"

Daphne's mind zoomed to make a recollection.

"That was a tuxedo, right? Don't you have any dresses? A gown, maybe?"

Tracey shook her head.

"I don't even wear a skirt unless it's summer... I don't have anything like that, sorry."

"You could borrow from my wardrobe? I'm sure I'll have something you'll like?" she suggested.

Tracey let out a loud cackle.

"I mean - I'm flattered that you think I could fill your bust size! - but what's wrong with just wearin' a suit?"

Daphne's eyes rolled awkwardly. Progress was good, it was going exactly the way she hoped. She dare not say something now to spoil the mood.

She thought carefully on how to word her next sentence

"It's... not _exactly _very... lady-like."

An expression that Daphne predicted coming a mile off fell on to her, as Tracey stared back.

"I'm not trying to be _ladylike_, I'm trying to be me."

"What about a suit with kilt then, maybe?" she was quick to suggest. "That at least _looks _like a skirt. I don't want you to look out of place."

"Daffy," Tracey shook her head, determined, "if you make me wear a dress - in any way, shape, or form - then I won't go."

Daphne brought herself off the bed and joined her on her feet, resigned. She wanted to argue further. She knew where to draw the line, though. Not only was she fighting a losing battle, she was an idiot for trying to win _that _fight in the first place.

"Okay, then. You can wear a suit…" she said with a tired sigh. "But only because it's easier to take you than someone else."

Tracey pulled a smug face, then wiggled her head provocatively from side to side.

"There I was thinkin' you wanted me to come because you actually _cared _about me!" she said with a rhythm.

Daphne pulled an ironic, forced grin back at her.

"That too, I suppose."

Another trademark cackle sounded from Tracey's mouth and she received a sudden punch to the shoulder.

"What are _you _wearin'?" Tracey asked as she moved across the room quickly, crossing over to her open wardrobe and rummaging inside.

Daphne stayed on the spot, watching her find what she was looking for.

"A dress I picked up from Madame Malkins before term started. It's black, but illuminates navy under moonlight. It's gorgeous actually, I've been waiting for the chance to show it off."

"Custom from Malkins!?" Tracey announced with a laugh, "That must have set you back a bit?"

"It didn't, actually. Father bought it for me as a present."

Tracy paused her loud rooting and brought out a wrinkled burgundy, yellow and green three-piece suit on a hanger from the wardrobe.

"Will this look good with it?"

Daphne paused.

She was here to make peace, but by the old gods, it took all of her power not to throw up on the spot.

"That's rather… _clownish…_" she eased out the word. "Do you have anything more expensive looking?"

Tracey pulled a disapproving face and chucked the outfit onto her bed.

"Daffy, I live on a council estate? I only have the school textbooks because I nicked them from Pansy!"

A sympathetic smile was the best Daphne could manage.

"What _do _you have, then?"

"That," she pointed back to her bed, "the tux from the Yule Ball and this blazer," she returned to her wardrobe again and this time brought out a blazer off the floor, which looked more screwed and creased than the suit was.

Daphne felt faint at the state of it, but as she went to turn her nose up she slowly did a double take.

The low-quality and cheapness of it was obvious, but let it also had an aura about it that suited Tracey's attitude.

"That's actually quite nice."

Tracey held it up to the illumination lanterns, but Daphne patiently ignored her.

"It's very faintly green, I don't know if you can see in this light."

"Do you have pants in the same colour?"

"_Technically_ yes, but I'm not sure they'll fit," Tracey cringed loudly. "I got them in third year and my bum has got huge since then."

Daphne was silent for a moment, considering her options. Tracey caught her gaze and matched it with an equal expression of contemplation.

"If you could fit into it, it'd be a good look," she said after a while.

Tracey nodded and strung the blazer up across her wardrobe door.

"Sorted, then! Black shirt or white?"

"Well, that depends if you're wearing a waistcoat with it?"

"Oh, Daffy, come on…"

Daphne suddenly felt like she overstepped her bounds.

"No, it's good, we're making progress!" she nodded, giving Tracey an enthusiastic smile. "Doing well so far! Now, with a suit you typically either need to have the blazer open and with a waistcoat, or keep it closed and wear a tie. Which would you rather?"

An exasperated sigh came from Tracey.

"Where do you even _learn _this stuff?"

Daphne shook her head, again forcing positivity onto her face.

"Years of trial and error, don't worry! Father used to take me with him to Ministry parties."

Tracey rolled her eyes.

"Well, the only tie-tie I have are my school ties."

"That's okay, do you have a waistcoat?"

"None at all."

Daphne, again, considered the scene.

Tracey looked as disinterested as she did during the lessons. She could see she was beginning to tire of the topic. She was on thin ice and didn't want to overstep any bounds, but didn't know what else to stir the conversation towards just yet. Things were going well, she should shut things down now before the situation soured and she was back where she started.

"Well, I have a grey one, it would look good between green pants and blazer. You could maybe wear a black shirt?"

Tracey thought on the spot for a moment before nodding, her face breaking out into a smile.

"That sounds pretty slick, yeah, I could do that."

"It's a woman's though," Daphne interjected quickly, "you're going to be okay with that?"

Tracey punched her in the shoulder again, laughing obnoxiously, "Sod off! Yes, I'll be fine with that."

"And shoes?"

"I have some nice ones, don't worry. They're not heels, though. I'm takin' my legs off before you make me wear heels, so don't ask."

Daphne gave her girl a reassuring head nod.

"Don't worry, that's fine. We're all set then!"

"It's a date! You got some designer eye-patch you're gonna wear for it or somethin'?"

What obviously meant to come out as a joke brought a startling silence to the room. Tracey's face dropped and she looked to Daphne in horror. Daphne didn't know why her words suddenly struck as deep as they did, but her face apparently portrayed her feelings before she hid them in time.

"I'll have it off by then, don't worry," she tried to pass it off casually.

The mood in the room had already changed.

Their conversation up until this point had shot by, again, on autopilot. Daphne didn't really care about the clothes, she just wanted to talk on good terms with her half-sister again.

The argument had lingered like an elephant in the room, and now they had made the mistake of addressing it, it was impossible to return to before it. From the second Daphne entered, even at its best, the tension had been unignorable and very apparent.

Tracey cocked her head to the side, smiling, but with an air of sadness in her tone.

"What... _did _happen, Daph?"

Her question didn't come out like last night. This time it was simple in tone and almost struck her as sympathetic. It was like Tracey knew it was useless to try but still had to anyway. Daphne peered across the bed at her, solemnly.

"You know… I have cracked ribs and severe bruising on my arms and legs… but would you believe me if I told you I don't _actually _know what happened to my eye?"

Her faint attempt at humour was the best consulting she could manage. It didn't seem to satisfy Tracey, but at least created a small smile on the girl's lips.

"Can I see it?" she gently.

Daphne turned her nose up in a sudden ugly grimace.

"No... It's... disgusting."

"Have you lost your entire eye or…?"

She could forgive Tracey for being curious, even if it was about something that she was clearly sensitive over. It wasn't exactly as though she had been very forthcoming recently, she could hardly blame the girl, as much as the growing butterflies in her stomach wanted her to.

Daphne shook her head. "It's just a flesh wound. I can see fine, but... Madam Pomfrey says I'm probably going to have a scar across my face. My eyebrow, specifically. Cut down the middle."

Tracey frowned.

"Seriously? How come? I thought we had potions to stop stuff like that happenin'?"

To answer her question, Daphne would have to go into why she didn't receive any magical medical attention immediately, and to do that was something she still didn't think she could do. She was here to make peace, but to bare all was still a task too impossible for her at present. Her silence was the only answer Tracey would be getting to that question, and she, too, seemed to have recognised that she'd overstepped her bounds.

"What's really goin' on? Why are you being nice to me suddenly?" she asked.

Daphne tried to smile, but only managed to pull one side of her lips up. Her positive mentality was gone, but for the time being her drive to fix things was still alive, so she continued with what she could.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you last night…" she said quietly.

"You're _actually _apologisin'?"

There was surprise in her tone. Daphne brushed loose hair from her face to look at her, but struggled to meet her eye-line fully.

"Yes. I was in the wrong. Why is that surprising?"

Tracey laughed before answering.

"Daphne, I've known you all my life and I've never seen you apologise to _anybody_!"

She frowned.

"That's an exaggeration."

"No, it's not."

Daphne had to forcibly direct herself from going down another one of these tangents.

"My point is…" she eased out, "I know you're just trying to help. I shouldn't take it out on you when you've done nothing but try and do what's best for me... So... what I'm saying is... I appreciate it, even if I can't accept it."

"Any _reason _you can't accept it?"

A sigh escaped her lips that was so loud it almost surprised herself.

"More than I could list... And you _know _that, Tracey! I'm past the point of trying to be in control anymore. I _am _in danger, yes, but I'm in too deep to back out now. I'm just doing what I can at this point. I can't explain it to myself, never mind anyone else."

Tracey groaned at her with equal volume.

"Come on, cut the cryptic shit, Daphne," she spat.

It was an aggressive sound, more akin to her attitude from last night.

"If you're involved in the Death Eaters then they're not going to let you just walk away. That _is _what we're talking about, right? You're a Death Eater now, aren't you?"

Daphne was silent.

She'd all but already confessed and implied such, but this was her first time directly being asked about it by anyone. She was too stunned to respond immediately. Even though they both knew the answer, the words struggled to leave her throat.

"It wasn't supposed to… I never _meant _for…" she tried but her words failed her.

Her stomach churned.

She gritted her teeth.

"Yeah?"

This was what she was here for. She wasn't going to back out now, she couldn't, she wouldn't let herself. She didn't care how it made her look, she didn't care about putting up the perfect version of herself anymore.

Her time being a coward was over now.

It was time to be honest, not just to Tracey, but to herself.

"I've bitten off more than I can chew..." she began slowly, then got louder, "... Of _course _I want out, but it's not that easy. And yes - because of my _own _doing - I'm aware. I tried to keep everyone happy and now _nobody _is happy and _everyone _is taking it out on me. I don't have any allies anymore and I'm not even safe in Hogwarts. I didn't _want _any of this, I never did! I was just too much of a coward to stand up for myself against it… Yes, I am a Death Eater."

Despite the shortness of what she said, those were some of the most difficult words to ever leave her throat. When she listened to them it didn't even sound like her talking.

Her eyes were closed, and it took a little while before she heard Tracey's response.

"How _could _you?"

She opened her eyes, and saw Tracey staring back her with a tense scowl

"They're murderers, Daphne! I know you're into your blood politics and everythin', but surely there's a better way?!"

The look Tracey was giving her would haunt her for days to come.

Daphne made quick to amend herself.

"I-I got in over my head, okay!? I was backed into a corner, I didn't want to - but faced with the alternative _\- _it felt like the only thing that I _could _do. Obviously I regret it! But father forced me, my choice wasn't a factor!"

Her breathing had picked up and she paused to lick her lips. Tracey looked like she was about to say something else, but finally Daphne's brain got into gear and she spoke up again.

"Daddy beat the _shit _out of me after what I pulled at the Department of Mysteries, I wasn't about to throw my life away by fighting him further! So, yes! I convinced myself I could be this good, down-to-earth Death Eater that actually had a point and didn't resort to endless killings… But, no! It turns out you can't have your cake and eat it as well, and it took me _way _too long to realise that, because I'm a complete and utter _idiot _and now I'm branded for life because of it!"

She half-shouted her confession, by the time she finished she was panting for breath. A tremendous weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but it didn't feel as good as she'd been hoping it would. Now the truth was out there in the open. Escaping into the real world.

Her eyes closed again in an attempt to calm herself down and bring in the room around her. She waited for Tracey's response, which felt like it took a lot longer than it actually did.

"You've got the tattoo thingy?"

She opened her eyes but didn't respond. Of all the things she expected Tracey to react to in that rant, her mark wasn't one of them. Dumbfounded, instead of opening her mouth, she simply offered her left arm as an answer, where her sleeve rolled back to reveal bandages. Tracey's eyes sank to her arm and ogled it intensely, as though it were about to come loose and strangle her.

"Can I see it?" she asked after a second.

She limply shook her head, still breathing heavily.

"I've not taken the bandages off since I got it. I keep putting it off because then…" she took a deep, unsure breath, "... then it becomes real."

"You have to take them off eventually, pretty please?"

Daphne stared at her, the first annoyance rising in her all conversation. Tracey noticed and quickly turned her attention away from her arm.

"Okay - I'm sorry about what your dad did, Daffy. He's a dick, we all know that. But still, like… _seriously_? Was there no other alternative than to becoming a literal Death Eater? You could have run away? Reported him? Gone to Dumbledore? Somethin', anythin' other than _that_!"

Daphne, jaded, shook her head. She knew her words wouldn't be able to make her see what she had been going through, but also couldn't find it in her to stay quiet.

"He'd just get Astoria into it if I wasn't there... he needs an heir that makes him look good. Why, what are you implying?"

Tracey seemed closer than before. At some point Daphne had sat back down on the bed, she wasn't sure when, and now they were touching-knees.

"I'm _askin'_," her voice came in a heavy, hushed tone,"... if you're honestly tellin' me you aren't on board with any of it? I'm not accusin' you of anythin' - I'm not - but you've always been very up-tight with your views. You can tell me."

A realisation dawned on her like a ton of bricks.

Tracey didn't believe her. Of all the possibilities of how this conversation was going to go, her confession not being believed wasn't one of them.

Daphne stared her down.

"I've never been quiet about my beliefs, _Tracey_," she spoke with a suddenly stern voice, "I'm right wing and _will _stand up for what I believe. But..."

She paused to wet her lips and change her tone.

"... there is a _big _difference between people like _me _and the Death Eaters. I don't belong with them anymore than _you _do. Sure, okay? I don't like muggleborns in the school, but I'm not about to bully them for something that's out of their control."

She let out a frustrated breath. She moved her eye-line to the other-side of the room. Whether or not her words had any impact, and whether or not Tracey actually believed her now, she didn't care. She'd gone from defenceless to aggressive in such a short amount of time that her mind was still playing catch up. After all the struggle she had been through, after how difficult it was to bare her heart like that, the sheer nerve of Tracey for not believing her knocked her sick.

Tracey herself had backed off a few inches, again clearly aware that she had said the wrong thing. Daphne spoke up again before she had the chance.

"Can we not talk about this, please? I already accepted I was an idiot, I don't need you shitting on me for it as well."

"I'm not shittin' on you, I promise!" Tracey yelped. "You're alright - you regret it, I get that! I believe you, don't worry. I'm just tryin' to understand."

Those were the words Daphne wanted to hear in the first place, but they'd struck too late to dim her temper. She crossed her arms in annoyance, but said nothing.

"You were forced, I get it. Does anyone else know? What's Astoria said? What happens if Dumbledore finds out? Are you doing _anythin' _to fight against it?"

"Astoria doesn't know, she'd be heartbroken if she knew I was going the same way as father... Draco does, but I doubt he'll tell anyone. He took the mark the same night as me. Professor Snape is protecting us from the eyes of the other staff. Harry's probably figured it out by now, too; I all but told him straight when I left him. As far as I can tell, he hasn't told anyone either."

Tracey gave a laugh that was mostly just a quick exhale.

"Puttin' a lil' bit too much faith in him there, Daffy."

She pursed her lips, still unable to take her eyes away from the wall.

"Really, it should go without saying but, because it's _you _I'll say it anyway... this all stays between me and you. And I mean that."

She felt Tracey move to action beside her.

"I got you. Cross my heart and hope to die. Thank you for actually openin' up to me."

Her hand came to Daphne's knee, which if she was in a more energetic mood, she'd have pulled away from.

And that was it.

It had gone better than she had expected, but not as she had planned. She didn't imagine a huge argument was going to erupt from her confession, not with Tracey, anyway, but she could have definitely done without her intentions and morals getting pulled into question.

This was the difficult part over with, it was good. She had shared her problem now, it wasn't going to be down to just her anymore. Maybe it was just their close proximity to each other, or the fact that she'd just bared her heart to her, but she even felt less alone right now. It only lasted a few short seconds, but it was the most loved she'd felt since term started.

A rushing over of goosebumps swept her body as Daphne stood up.

"I'll have a look for that waistcoat for you," she said quickly.

Tracey nodded, jumping up to join her.

"Cheers. Anythin' I can do?"

"Not much. My dress needs some ironing but I'll do that, want me to do your stuff as well?"

Tracey gave an awkward laugh and tugged her blazer gently from the door, handing it to her.

"Yeah... if you don't mind. Cheers again."

Daphne took the blazer from her and folded it, the best she could, anyway, and tucked it under her arm.

"Do I need makeup or anythin' for on the night?" Tracey asked.

She took a quick glancing up and down of the girls face before answering.

"Maybe some concealer for spots. You'd look quite fetching in eyeliner, I also think."

Tracey mulled over her response, before sticking out her lip and nodding.

"Yeah, sure, I could do that."

"And - is it too much to ask that you please don't turn up wearing that awful thing on your head?"

Tracey broke out into a wide shit-guzzling grin and stuck her tongue out.

"You can take this hat off of my cold and decapitated head, Daphne. If it doesn't come, I don't either."

Daphne smiled, but it was a rehearsed and required one.

She'd been out here too long, her nerves had failed her and she wanted to retreat to isolation now. Her part was done. She had made the first move on the road to things getting better, that was an accomplishment. It didn't matter that she felt like crap now, the first step had been taken.

She'd probably spend the rest of the day in her room overthinking things and suffering as a result, but none of that would matter now. Her actions mattered, and she'd just acted for the first time in so long, in her own, genuine, best interest.

"Daffy?"

"Yeah?"

"You're an egotistical bitch, you know that?"

Tracey wasn't shouting anymore; now she was back to playing.

Of all insults she could have called her, there were definitely some less-accurate ones she could have said.

Daphne met her smile with one of her own.

"Coming from an attention-seeker and a whore, I'll take that as a compliment."


	17. The Walking Shatterpoint

It was against Harry's better judgement that he did decide to attend Slughorn's Christmas party the coming week. He hadn't been looking forward to it at all and as the days drew closer he grew adamant that he wasn't going. Then, when he realised how bad it may damage his relationship with Slughorn if he didn't show he had decided at the last minute, an hour before, he was to attend.

The weekend closed in quickly and before Harry knew it he was stood on his own outside the Great Hall on the evening of the get-together. He was in a suit, which was a little too big for him as it was something he'd borrowed from Sirius, but otherwise felt he looked quite nice. The plan had been to meet Hermione and her date - whoever that was - at this time and location, but as the clock ticked on, the corridor got colder and colder around him and he decided to do the short walk to the dungeons by himself.

He walked blissfully without a date. Having only decided to come an hour earlier had left him with no time to ask anyone, though considering how things had gone with Daphne last time they spoke, he thought it best not to put himself in a worse-off situation by bringing someone else. Something that Hermione said had been lingering in his mind, though. Daphne wouldn't have a date tonight, would she? If that was the case, then he'd would definitely regret not bringing someone.

That anxiety followed him into the dungeons, where the sounds of laughter, music and loud conversation grew with each step. The Christmas party was being held in the old duelling room, the same one Slughorn used for their monthly dinner parties, so it was easy for him to navigate his way there.

"'Arry Potter?" a voice asked from the darkness.

He slowed to a stop, turned his head to the side and saw a raven-haired girl in elegant blue dress leaning against the dungeon wall. He recognised her faintly.

"Hey… Dominique, right?"

He hadn't heard any footsteps on his way down and judging by the shivers sweeping her body, she'd been there a while. Despite the fact she was obviously freezing, the girls eyes seemed to lit up at the recognition.

"Call me Dom! You are goin' to Mizter Slughorn's party, no?"

"Yeah, I am."

She smiled harder.

"You 'ave a plus one, no?"

It took a second for Hermione's words for warning to occur to him, but by the time Harry realised the situation he was in, an answer had already escaped his lips.

"I didn't bring anyone, no."

"A coïncidence!" she let out a half-cheer, half-laugh.

Dom threw herself off the wall - the energy of which caught him off guard - and she snaked her arms around his before he could resist.

"So either did I! Shall we walk together?"

It took all he could to not physically leap away from the girl, and it had nothing to do with the sudden intrusion on his personal space. Even through his suit, he could feel how cold the girl was.

How long had she been down here? Hermione said she wanted to go with him, had she been waiting down here for him?

"I don't think that's a-"

"Excellent! We shall walk together!"

Before he could offer any more resistance, the girl began to drag him. He reluctantly didn't fight and allowed himself to get swept away down the corridor.

Concern was in the foremost of his mind right now. This girl was absolutely freezing. The cold she was giving off was cutting through his suit like a tidal wave. Within seconds his entire arm was numb to her and it made him think strength of her clinging was perhaps an attempt for warmth rather than just affection.

She captured him staring at her and flashed a radiant smile back.

"You look _incroyable_, tonight! Iz my outfit okay?"

Harry stumbled over his words.

"You look - you are - are you... not _cold_?""

She gave a casual shrug and gripped his arm tighter.

"Eh little, not too much! Et'll be fine when we get into zhe party."

"Right, yeah, about that," Harry said quickly, "I really don't think it's a good idea for us to go in together. I can talk to you inside, but I just don't-"

"No, no! Et will look _bad _either of uz turnin' up alone!" she empathised, strengthening her grip on him again.

"Yeah, but I'm kind of seeing som-"

"Look, we are 'ere already! Let's 'ead inside and warm up!"

They followed the social noises and in no time arrived outside the door to the party, which Dom was quick to swing open. A breath of hot air hit them and he felt her melt a little on his arm.

The room was crowded already. Golden ornate lamps hung from the ceiling, which was draped in emerald, crimson and gold hangings, making it look as though they were all inside a giant tent. A team of house-elves were negotiating their way through the forest of knees, and Harry was able to instantly spot a few faces he recognised in the crowd. Light singing accompanied by what sounded like violins issued from a distant corner… it wasn't the kind of place he'd normally visit, but he maintained his positive expression.

"Hey, Harry," came a voice as soon as they entered fully.

His mind still catching up from dealing with Dom; Harry had to do a double take.

"Neville? What're you… doing?"

Neville was by the door, dressed in a scaled up outfit similar to what the houselves were wearing.

"Professor Slughorn let me work the doors. Worth it to meet Skye Parkin I figured, ey?" he smiled.

He then noticed Harry's makeshift 'date' and turned to her, bringing up a clipboard.

"Could I get your name, please?"

"Dominique Flamel," she answered.

"You're not on the lis-"

Dom snatched Harry's hand from his side and held it in her own, then brought it up for Neville to see.

"No, am 'ere as 'Arry Potters date!"

Neville gave them both a strange look then after a second, nodded.

"Oh… alright then… you guys can head in."

Harry gave a heavy sigh, finally having connected the dots.

He brought his hand roughly away from Doms, but subtly enough so that Neville didn't see.

"See you inside, Neville."

_"Au revoir!"_

He probably wasn't as angry as he were relieved, but both feelings were definitely present.

_"I thought you said you were invited?"_

"Zhe details, zhey never matter!" she brushed it off, smiling as though it were nothing. "We are 'ere now, _zhat _is what matters!"

"Harry, my boy!"

Slughorn, looking happier than ever, beckoned to him and then crossed the room at a startling speed for a man of his age. He grabbed his arm so tight, Harry suspected he might have been hoping it would come off, then led him purposefully into the party. Deciding between the lesser of two evils, Harry seized Dom by the arm and dragged her along with them.

With Slughorn leading through the crowd, he kept turning back to talk to them.

"Didn't tell me you would be bringing Miss Flamel as your plus one! My word, clearly a man of culture! You know, Dominique - can I call you Dominique? Yes! Well, I'm very sorry our first meeting had to be weighted down by Miss Bell's accident… Poor Katie, of course, bless her heart! I've heard she's doing better, no? Quite right! Ah, now then, I was actually hoping to invite you to some of the future Slug Club meetings, after you settled down a bit! I've never had the chance to meet a Flamel in person before and I can't think of a better place for us to get to know each other! And it seems Harry had a similar idea to me, didn't you my boy?"

"Actually, she -"

He received a hard elbow in his ribs.

"You flatter me, Mizter Slughorn!" she shouted over him.

Slughorn smiled with a certain twinkle in his eye.

"Harry has always had an eye for quality, you know! Just about the best damn Potions student I've ever had! _And_ a powerful spell caster as well, so I've heard! Definitely couldn't go wrong with him, ay!"

Harry was elbowed hardly again, this time in the shoulder and by Slughorn.

"Thanks, Professor…"

"Ah 'ave 'eard as much myself!"

Never in his life did he imagine himself in a situation where one of his Professors was trying to act as his wing man, but he also couldn't help but smile over the ridiculous prospect as well.

"Severus Snape!"

Slughorn threw his arm out and scooped Snape out from the crowd, who looked just as shocked at his sudden arrival as Harry were.

"Why - I was just telling Mister Potter's date, Miss Flamel here, what a talented young potions-maker he was shaping up to be! Don't you agree? You taught the boy of course!"

Trapped between Slughorn's arm around his shoulder and his other-side being pushed up against Harry, Snape's eyes narrowed down at him.

"Funny, now that you mention it, Professor... Mister Potter has been in my lessons for the past five years now and I never got the impression that I taught him anything."

"Natural ability then! I should have known!" Slughorn cheered. "He takes right after his mother, he does! Say, Severus, I seem to remember you and Lily being particularly close friend back in the day! Don't you reckon he'd do her proud?"

At the arrival of Slughorn's words, Snape's eyes began burrowing in to Harry, as though he had just overhead an embarrassing secret. For Harry, the high-paced conversation had slowed down to a halt.

"You were friends with my mum?" he asked, genuinely.

Snape looked down his nose at Harry, a sneer over his face.

"Lily Evans and myself knew each other well. I'm sorry to let you down, Professor Slughorn, but pride is anything _but _the way I imagine she'd feel towards her son now."

Blood rushed to Harry's head, which Slughorn seemed to notice.

"Right-o! Right-o! Let's move on from that, shall we!"

He couldn't tell if Slughorn shoved Snape back into the crowd, or if he'd just left that quickly of his own accord, but Harry was grateful regardless.

"That Severus… always a kidder, ay…. My boy! Feel free to mingle as much as you'd like! I have an old student of mine, Eldred Worple, that I'd love you to meet!"

The mood was already ruined for him, however. He'd not been in the party for more than a few minutes and Snape's comment had instantly soured his night. His mission to please Slughorn was now second-only to his want to escape this situation.

Harry shook his head, feigning a smile.

"I'm going to get something to eat, actually, Professor. Dom, you want anything?"

Dominique's eye's light up at the mention of her name and she tugged again on Harry's arm.

"Ah will come with you! _Au revoir,_ Mizter Slughorn!"

Dominique gave a wave and Harry pulled her into the crowd without a second glance back.

There was a lot of faces coming in and focus around him, most of which he recognised, but only a few he'd be able to tell you where from. There was a startling lack of Hogwarts students, however. Whether this was because a lot of them had bailed already, or there was simply that many additional guests, Harry couldn't tell, he just knew that it didn't make his situation any more bearable.

He was able to make his way to the food table without incident, dragging Dominique behind him, who seemed to almost float with child-like wonder. She was quick to snatch up a paper plate and begin shovelling the free food onto it.

"You and Mizter Snape do not like each other, no?"

His smile was a sarcastic one.

"What made you think that?"

Dominique nodded, her attention still on the food she was scoffing and talking to him like an afterthought.

"'E iz 'orrible to me in lesson, too."

Once her plate was ludicrously full she finally turned back to him. She leaned back against the table and began to eat, but not without nuzzling their shoulders together in the process.

"Nice turn out, no?"

"Look, Dom," Harry moved suddenly away from her, "You just used me to get an invite in, right? Or are you actually hoping for something? Because you should know that I am-"

"_Harry!"_

Annoyed at the distraction, but grateful for the familiar voice, Harry turned around. Yet to his surprise, he found nobody he recognised in sight.

His attention then drew back to Dominique, who was staring quizzically at the wall.

"Zhere iz a woman behind zhat curtain."

He squinted, struggling to make out the figure that he too now had noticed. When he did, he made a quick dash behind the curtain.

The voice had come Hermione, who was _meant _to have met him an hour ago, but looked to have been hiding behind the curtain for some time. She seemed distinctly dishevelled, as though she had been dragged backwards through a garden hedge.

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

"Hiding from Cormac!" she hushed him.

"Cormac _McLaggan_?" he repeated, revolted. "You brought him? Bloody hell did you do that for?"

"I thought he would make Ron the most jealous…" she said with a dispassionate sigh.

"Right…" he shook his head, "The same Ron you knew wasn't even invited to this?"

"I regret it enough already, you don't need to remind me of how stupid I'm being!"

Hot on his trail, Dominique joined them a second later through the curtain.

"O' are we hiding from?" she asked.

There was a beat in the air, in which Hermione's eyes narrowed in confusion and then widened out surprise. Harry looked astutely at her, annoyance written across his face.

"Oh, Hermione, this is Dominic Flamel. She's my _date_," he spoke with false joy.

He couldn't quite tell if the look he was getting from her was sympathy or disapproval.

"Ohh… ah..." she eased out, "How did… _that… _come about, then?"

"No, et is pronounced _Dominique_!" Dominique corrected him with pride, "Dom-_ee_-niche. Not Domnik."

"Dom-eeeee-nick, then!"

A shadow suddenly descended on the group and seconds later the curtain hiding them was torn back.

Snape took one look at the trio and gave a disheartened sigh.

"Oh... it's you lot."

Harry threw his arms in the air in a fed-up motion.

"Anyone else want to join!?"

Hermione shied automatically away from Snape, while Dominique seemed to move and square up against him. Snape didn't notice either of the girls, however, his glare fell solely on him.

"Now, Potter… why am I not surprised you've taken a liking to Miss Flamel? She's just about as big of a trouble maker as you are."

"Ah am not!" Dominique protested.

Snape glared at her for a moment before turning back to him.

"I seem to remember you already having a fooled girl in my house once before... You should do well to appreciate those who put up with you, more so for those who sacrifice things for you. One never does appreciate what they have before it's gone. Now stop lurking, all of you. Rejoin the party or get out."

Snape left no room for a response and vanished with a flick of his robe.

For the next moment, Harry stared at the area he had just filled. It wasn't his demeaning tone that caught him off guard, he was used to that. It was because he was trying to find where insult was in what he just said, when he failed to do that, then he tried to decipher why his words had sounded like solid advice. The last thing he needed was Snape making accusations about his love life, yet that wasn't what that struck him as.

"Did Snape just give you relationship advice?" asked Hermione, with an equal tone of confusion.

Wearily, the trio moved out from the curtain and emerged back into the party. Again, they found no friendly faces and the crowd somehow seemed larger and noisier than it was moments before.

Harry leaned to Hermione.

"Should we get a drink?"

"I'm getting out of here while I have the chance, I'm sorry, Harry. You'll have to handle this one on your own. Best of luck on -" she fiend a smile at Dominique, "- your _date_. If you see Cormac, do me a favour and tell him I'm dead."

"Tell him _what_?"

Hermione moved so fast it was as though she had disapparated; one minute she was there, the next she vanished entirely into the crowd. She was his only welcome and familiar face and she'd left him to the mercy of others. She'd get no sympathy from him in the future.

He, again, felt his plus-ones unwelcome grip on his arm.

"O, 'Arry! My friends are 'ere! Let's go!"

She took the front again and, deciding he might as well make the most of his night, Harry allowed himself to be lead back through the crowd.

Dominique seemed harmless enough, he decided. Her advances weren't anything he couldn't fight off and she certainly seemed more friendly than most of Slytherin class. He'd much rather be here with her than on his own and at the leniency of strangers conversations. Using him to get into the party, she did seem a little fraudulent at times, but he'd seen enough of her other attitude that he doubted it was through any deliberate bad intent.

Emerging out near the drinks table, he found three eyes glaring daggers at him as they approached. His heart sank as he realised just who the friends were she was leading him to.

* * *

Tracey was having fun, at least. When they'd entered she'd practically made a beeline for the drinks table. It marked a small victory for Daphne, since it meant any remaining animosity between the two had been stomped out and forgotten.

She was on the other side of things, however.

There was only so much fun one could have with half of their vision impaired and the other half constantly catching people staring. Her eyepatch had not come off in time and she was forced to wear it out tonight, completely clashing with her outfight and making her a sight to behold. If it wasn't for the fact they were out tonight treating Tracey, Daphne would have cancelled coming all together.

Nobody was talking to her and she was quickly beginning to feel like a third wheel. She checked the clock and to her annoyance, found the three of them had arrived merely two hours earlier. It felt longer than that.

"I think I just saw Myron Wagtail!" Astoria cried.

Tracey dove onto the girls shoulders.

"Don't be mad, what would the Weird Sisters be doin' here!?"

A second passed before both girls squealed loudly and clung to one another.

"Smeggin' hell, it is!"

"I'm going to ask for an autograph, that okay, Daphne?"

Only half paying attention, she waved Astoria off. Together the two girls dashed off into the crowd, leaving her on her own.

Daphne brought her wine glass up and took a long swig. The aroma that hit her nostrils was in stark contrast to the bitter taste passing between her lips.

She was a rare social drinker. Usually only to aid the conversation, but now it was through necessity. Time was dragging and she felt uncomfortable around so many people. Tracey was too misty-eyed at the atmosphere and decor to have a conversation with, while Astoria knew that many people she'd barely seen anything of her since they had arrived. Blaise had woven in and out a number of times to say hello and drop snide remarks, but he seemed to have disappeared behind the curtain with a Hufflepuff girl an hour in.

Normally she could make do and put on a happy face, but now the only attention she was getting was the negative kind and she'd already had more than enough of that in the school corridors. Finishing her glass, she immediately set about pouring herself a new one. She had no intention of getting drunk - Merlin only remembers what happened last time - but the alcohol was free and a little buzz would go a long way with her right now.

"Not here on your own are you, my dear?"

She'd zoned out into her wine glass and when she'd come to, found Horace waiting patiently by her side. She faked a smile for him.

"Actually, I am afraid my plus one is hassling one of your special guests."

Horace clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Well, not to worry, that's what they're here for! I'll pop back in a bit, I'm sure I'd love to meet the lucky chap!"

With that he was gone and Daphne was left trying to decipher his words.

_Meet him…? What did he…?_

Oh, that was right. They were meant to bring _dates_, not just friends.

Daphne was an attractive, of-age girl and the heir to her family's ancient estate; the idea of her not already being in the planning stages of her wedding was a ludicrous one. She couldn't blame Horace for assuming, not when that was the state of the reality they lived in.

In truth, the only thing that had stopped her being sold off as part of a prearranged marriage was that she was born out of wedlock, which would make her a bastard of sorts, in the eyes of some. Granted that didn't mean much when your family was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but it interfered with the law just enough to not add another time-sensitive problem to her growing list of them. She felt bad having to let Horace down, but all things considered, not being endowed at her age was the least of her concerns. But the reminder that she was not wanted didn't exactly do wonders for her already-damaged self esteem, either.

"Yo, Daphne, check it out!"

Suddenly and rather alarmingly, a pair of breasts were pushed forward into her face. She jumped back in surprise.

"I got Myron to sign my tits!"

She snatched the sides of Tracey's shirt and pulled them closed in the centre.

"Very nice, now _stop it!_" she hissed.

Astoria appeared at their side, laughing.

"I can't believe you asked him!"

"I can't believe he _did _it! I'm gonna get this tattooed!"

"Merlin's Beard, Tracey! Cover up!"

"Oh, calm down, will you? Nobody cares, it's a party!" Tracey threw her arms up in a cheer, which Astoria joined.

Daphne grimaced at them. As she lifted her wine glass up she found it to be empty once more. She turned around to pour herself another one, only partially paying attention to her sisters.

"You should get Kirkley and Orsino to sign them as well!"

"Then I'd have the whole set… wouldn't look bad sayin' I had all three Weird Sisters at once, wouldn't?"

Daphne clenched her jaw.

"Please keep your conversation with my _underage _sister appropriate, thank you, _Tracey_."

A difficult noise came from Tracey's direction.

"Hey, Tori, you go find your mates. Gonna have a word with Daffy, I'll catch up with you."

She then reappeared in her peripheral, leaning back against the drinks table and fumbling to button up her shirt.

"What's up with you?" she asked.

"Astoria shouldn't have to listen to you talk about your perverted fantasies."

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, okay? Now come on, cheer up, we _are_ at a party."

Daphne knew her mood wasn't her fault, so didn't retort her.

She finished pouring her drink and turned again, this time out to face the rest of the party.

Mentally, she was still too wounded from her recent confession to be social. Being that emotionally exposed and giving such unfiltered honesty was a first for her. She was still on the side of recovery from it. She was coping with it decent enough, but tonight's event had fallen on an awkward night for her.

It felt like lingering rain clouds had been following her wherever she went, constantly reminding her what a weak and pathetic individual she had become. It took all her strength to ignore them. She had done the right thing. Finally, after all this time, she was doing the right thing.

"Is it 'cause Harry isn't here? I know you wanted to talk to him, but I don't think he's comin', we've been here like two hours now… You shouldn't let it get you down!"

Daphne physically felt her mood take a downwards turn. She just had to mention him, didn't she?

She'd already been so on the wall about tonight - so half and half about where her intentions lay - and now Tracey had to cloud her mind further.

"It's not _him_ that's getting me down."

"Then why are you being so mopey?"

"Everyone is staring at me!"

Tracey rolled her eyes.

"Daphne, nobody is starin' at you. You're overthinkin' it."

"I'm not! People keep sending me dirty looks because of this!" she threw a finger up at her eyepatch, to which Tracey just laughed.

"Nobody cares about that! You look sick with it, anyway! It actually suits you... frankly I was gonna make the argument you should keep it!"

Daphne gave an eye roll. Or, the best one she could manage.

"Ah, there we are, Daphne!"

A hand came to grip her arm. This time when she turned, ready to greet the voice, things took a second to steady around her. It was an instantly recognisable sensation, brought on by the alcohol.

"It's very nice to meet you Mister…"

Horace's hand came down on Tracey shoulder. As she turned around, the Professor's face dropped suddenly.

"Ahh, Miss Travis! So nice of you to join us! Are you two here ... together, then?"

Tracey seemed to move to square up to him.

"Is it a problem if we are?"

Horace's eyes widened.

"Of course not! My dear girl, whatever would make you say such a thing?! No, no! Why, one of my prized students and closest friends is Zureeal Hadley - she wears comfortable shoes as well, so to speak - we've remained in close contact over the years! Yes, I've always had a good relationship with the friends of Dorothy!"

He was talking quickly and panicking. The sight of it, tragic and somewhat humorous as it were, was enough to bring Daphne back into the room.

"Stop teasing him. Me and Tracey aren't together, Horace... We're related."

Horace looked relieved, before then pushing out his chest triumphantly.

"Well, when it comes to purebloods, you'll find relations in the latter are more common anyway!"

The joke registered after a second. Daphne smiled thinly, Tracey cheered.

"Yes, Sluggy!" she patted him on the shoulder, laughing.

Horace moved in and looked apologetically at her.

"My apologies for being so assuming, Daphne. Can you forgive an old fashioned man, such as myself?"

She didn't fight the smile coming to her lips.

"Horace, you are everything good in this world. Please, don't let it bofer you."

Daphne sucked in a deep, sobering breath.

She was very much aware how slurred the last bit of her sentence came out. Regardless, Horace looked pleased with what she'd said and with a bow, took off again into the crowd.

"We do look sick together, though. I told you the suit would go over well."

Tracey hadn't seemed to notice her hiccup, either. She nodded back at her.

"You _do _make a very handsome young man."

"And you're a well fit pirate!"

Daphne went to take another drink, but paused. Her glass was empty again.

Was someone stealing her alcohol from her glass? She wasn't possibly drinking this quickly, was she?

"You wanna slow down, Daffy? I have full intention of bringin' someone back to the dormitories, I could use my wing-gal sober and… what the fu…"

Her voice whimpered out and an unusually serious expression took over her face. Daphne frowned in alarm. They'd just left this party, hadn't they? What was wrong now? She turned to follow her gaze.

Daphne's face - or what of it was visible under an eyepatch - boiled into something ugly.

Harry was being lead towards them, hand-in-hand with a cheerful looking Dominique. The second their eyes locked, he turned away shamefully.

"Are yous here together?" Tracey asked abruptly and with zero cheer in her voice.

"_Oui_! We are here-"

Dominique had gone to take Harry's hand in her own and lift it up for display, but his wits seemed to have gotten the better of him and he viciously tore the arm away.

"We absolutely are _not_!" he said, definitively.

He then stuck a large and accusing finger at the girl beside him.

"_She_ used me to get an invite in!"

Dominique, looking startled at his outburst, fell silent. She took a step backwards from him and a long, embarrassed glance around the room.

A slimey feeling, something unfamiliar to her, swept through Daphne's system. Her heart beat was slow and heavy in her chest. Of all people he could possibly turn up with, _why _on Dagon's name had he chosen her?!

It didn't take Dominique long to bounce back, giving out an enthusiastic smile.

"Ah like your suit!"

Tracey's eyes lit up suddenly.

"Really?"

"_Oui_! Et looks really good on you!"

Tracey brought her hands up to her face to hide a blush. It was then Harry apparently decided to follow his dates lead.

"You look nice, Daphne."

Daphne took a momentary, unimpressed glance at him. She fought hard to keep the fury in her veins under-wraps. She took a loud swig from her wine glass.

"I know."

He looked like he was about to begin looking for escape routes, but apparently wasn't the only one with that idea.

"Hey, I think I see Skye Parkin!" Tracey cheered suddenly, "I'm goin' to go say hello, maybe try and get a phone number!"

Daphne let out a deep, almost barbaric groan at her.

"She's a pureblood, famous Quidditch player. She isn't going to have a phone!"

"An _owl address_ then, nobhead!" Tracey spat back.

She turned her head, her smile skipping Harry completely and falling on his date.

"Dom, come with me?"

Dominique clapped her hands together.

"O'course! Ah will be back, 'Arry!"

"Yeah, no rush!"

As two quickly vacated the vicinity, Daphne caught Tracey send one last glare back at her.

* * *

He knew exactly what Tracey was playing it. She hadn't been subtle in the slightest and he was positive Daphne had caught it too. He was grateful she was trying to help, but incredibly unhappy with the situation she had flung him into.

There were better times for him and Daphne to be left alone together. He turned back to her and to his surprise, found a beer being handed his way. Even though it was just the two of them in their proximity, it shocked him when he found Daphne on the other end of it. He took the bottle, nodding in appreciation.

"Thanks."

Daphne didn't spare him another glance, just took another swig from her own drink.

He knew he was on proverbial eggshells around her. There was a lot he wanted to say, but none of it was coming to him at the moment. He'd gotten so overwhelmed last time they'd spoke he'd exploded at her. Daphne seemed docile towards him now, he wasn't about to ruin that. He needed to start small if he ever wanted to be able to talk properly with her again.

She was wearing a black eye-patch. Harry had heard the rumours of such, but he hadn't shared a lesson with her to find out why. She didn't seem like a girl who would get injured easily, his mind began to wander about what else was the reason behind it. It was as good a place of any to start, he supposed.

"What happened to your eye?"

Daphne squinted, then let out a loud laugh.

"Oh, I'm glad you brought that up, actually!" she announced loudly, but with harshness in her voice, "I wasn't self conscious about it or anything!"

Harry stumbled with his words. Daphne was often sour, but it wasn't like her to be sarcastic.

"Sorry… you still look really good, though."

He wasn't lying, either. The dress she wore reached her chin like a turtle neck, but was short on her legs. It left little to the imagination of her figure; showing the shape of her more than modest chest and complimenting her hour-glass body. Under the eyepatch she even appeared to have gone all out with her makeup, wearing red lipstick with matching eye-liner.

Daphne didn't look back at him or make any recognition of his compliment. When she eventually did speak up, it was mostly mumbled into her drink.

_"So do you."_

He did a double-take, unsure if he'd heard her correctly. When he tried to meet her eye-line, she turned her body away from his, shying away. Something happened in his chest that he couldn't quite describe, he just knew it was the best he'd felt in months. When he finally realised she'd just complimented him, it took a lot to repress the smile that was breaking onto his face.

"Did you really bring Dominique as your date?" she asked quietly.

"No, no! _Definitely _not!" he half-shouted.

He wanted to be upfront about his feelings for her, he didn't want to leave where he stood with her unclear. Nothing was going to blur the lines of his solidarity and he certainly wasn't about to start any kind of immature love-triangle.

"We met outside and came in together - I think she was _waiting _for me - I've barely spoken to her! Hermione reckons she fancies me, but... I really couldn't care less."

She finally locked an eye with him.

Something wasn't right - not by a long shot. With her gaze usually came an air of power about it. She was never unsure about anything and always lead the conversation. That was the Daphne he was used to, but it wasn't the one staring back at him now.

Now she looked weak. She had defensive, puppy dog eyes. Like she'd been crying but minus the tears.

"Do you mean that?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Harry's stomach stirred.

Inspired by her gaze, when he spoke next it was from the deepest, most genuine part of his heart.

"She's the last person on my mind right now."

Their eye contact broke. She took another, deep gulp of her drink, unflinching. He kept his eyes firmly on her. He missed being under the scrutinising glare of the Ice Queen, but in his romanticism of it, he had forgotten quite how self conscious it made him feel.

Daphne leaned back against the drinks table as her attention wandered elsewhere.

"I don't like her very much."

He followed her eye-line through the crowd to land on Tracey and Dominique, currently in enthusiastic conversation with Skye Parkin - he was only a little bit jealous.

"I thought you guys were mates? She seems to think so."

"Her sister was one of the Beauxbaton entries for the Triwizard tournament. She got to visit as an exchange students in fourth year. We got on decently well then, but now she's just annoying. Tracey fancied her - still does - actually. Looked like she was going to cry when you two came in together..."

Harry held his breath.

"She wasn't the only one…"

He'd spoken without speaking, intending on making a joke. He didn't dare glance a look back in her direction when he could already feel the seething stare coming his way.

He quickly made to amend himself.

"I, erm, did get the impression she liked her, though. Yeah."

His foot was already long gone inside his mouth, it caused a stillness to settle in over their area of the otherwise lively room.

Reflecting on it now, when Daphne had spoken she didn't entirely sound like herself either. Her words came in heavy breaths, like she was forcing each one out and none of them had the level of certainty her voice usually came with. Whatever was the reason for her strange, more pleasant behaviour, Harry elected not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He also decided that after all that had gone on, now was the time to run with what he had.

"Hey, look… I'm sorry that we argued last party."

Daphne didn't say anything and he didn't stray a look in her direction to check her reaction. He pushed forward, determined.

"I was frustrated. I shouldn't have shouted at you, though. Forgive me?"

A loud slurping sound came from her direction.

"I already did."

Daphne's fragile expression caught him off guard more than her words had, when he looked back at her he outright felt he was talking to a different person all together.

Maintaining their eye contact, she brought her glass to her lips once again and took another drink, this time finally emptying all the remaining red liquid into her mouth and giving a satisfied gasp afterwards.

"I am... sorry, as well."

"For what?"

She suddenly turned away, but not before he caught her wincing. If he had to guess, he'd say she looked annoyed at herself.

"Doesn't matter. Sorry, I've been here for a while!" she laughed loudly, "The wines free… I'm starting to suspect drinking only ever leads me into trouble."

Harry frowned as pieces began to fall together.

"Are you drunk?"

"Yes."

The straightforwardness of her response was admirable, he respected it. More than that, he missed it.

Her being drunk explained her strange behaviour. It gave reason behind the feeble look in her eye and why she'd been so upfront with her feelings. A drunk mind speaks a sober heart, he'd once heard Hagrid say.

Despite her words, not a moment later she turned back around to the drinks table and began to refill her glass. To stop her came to Harry's mind, but another part of him said to let her be. He wasn't about to try and dictate her life, plus as of yet, he was actually getting a lot more conversation from drunk Daphne than he would do if she were sober.

"I hear you and Tracey are friends now?" she asked suddenly, returning to her position beside him.

Harry nodded.

"What she's told you?"

"That you two are friends now," she repeated.

That time it sounded like she'd spoken differently. Was he overthinking it? He was starting to second guess himself, the more he realised what progress he'd been making with her after months of trying, the more he began to doubt his own abilities to carry on the conversation as normal.

It was good, they were making progress. He didn't need his self-doubt encroaching on their conversation anymore than he needed another scar on his head.

"Is there anything else she _should _have told me?"

No, he wasn't overthinking it. She was definitely talking differently.

If Harry had to guess, she sounded annoyed? He couldn't even begin to imagine why, since it was a conversation that she had brought up.

"Of course not?" he frowned back at her.

Daphne gave an annoyed, drawn-out sigh and returned to her drink. First she'd seen him with Dominique and now she was asking about Tracey, was this her being jealous? That was it, wasn't it? He'd never pictured her as the jealous type before.

She'd shouted at him when he was delaying his breakup with Cho, but even then, it hadn't struck as being from a result of jealousy. Was she always secretly like this or was it just an effect of the alcohol?

"Sorry," she mumbled, sourly.

Right now she looked more angry at herself than she did him.

"Look, if you're jealous-"

"Oh - This has nothing to do with jelly, Harry!" she waved him off with a scowl and stray hand.

A few seconds ticked over before Harry deduced what had just happened. He repressed the urge to laugh.

"So… you haven't seen anyone else, then?"

She was in misery; a slave to her own mouth. The look she was giving him was distinctly one of pleadings, so he decided to put her out of her pain. He threw subtly to the wind and put it all out on the table.

"When I still like you, why would I see someone else?"

The words left his mouth with ease, but not without causing a sudden and dramatic plummeting in his stomach.

He'd never been so upfront about his own feelings before. It felt like he'd just stepped off a cliff and into the abyss below. He hated talking about the way he felt, especially when it came to sensitive issues like love or sex. Yet there wasn't a hint of hesitation in his tone and now that the words were out there in the open, he even felt faintly proud of himself.

"I still like you, too."

The words hit him like a train. He was stunned on the spot, straining to make sure he hadn't misheard them.

She suddenly turned away, Harry half expected her to make a bolt for it at that moment.

The expression of sheer terror and shock that set on her face was predictable. She looked like she was about to cry. Why did she keep saying one thing but her face said another? He knew she was drunk and she was probably saying this stuff by accident, but that didn't make any of it less true. He was thankful to be hearing this, to be having a _genuine _conversation with her again, but it annoyed it had to be under these circumstances.

"Daphne-" he tried.

"Stop, don't. Please, Harry."

"I'm sorr-"

"Stop. Talking."

That familiar sternness in her voice returned, but whether she'd momentarily sobered up or the Ice Queen was truly back, Harry couldn't tell.

This was good, so why was she fighting it? They were finally talking on equal grounds after months of him trying. Even if it had been only a glimpse at it, he now knew that the Daphne he'd fallen for all that time ago was still alive inside. His momentary surge of joy over this development was soon overridden with a quick panic to keep the level of intimacy going.

That feeling was cut short, however, when he felt a hand wrap around his own. His first thought was Dom had returned, but as he pulled his hand back, saw it was Daphne tugging him away from the table.

"What are you doing?"

"We're leaving."

He didn't fight it.

The two of them made their way to the other side of the room, weaving in and out of the unrecognisable faces and crossed to the same entrance he had come in from not an hour earlier. Neville was no longer at his post by the door, so it was easy for them to slip out unnoticed.

They left all that life behind them. The corridor was deserted and cold. With each step they took the sounds of music and loud talking grew quieter and quieter, and Harry began to wonder exactly where, if anywhere specific, she was leading him. They rounded a corner in the dungeons, heading deeper than he was normally familiar with. It was along this route that was the Slytherin common room, if his memory served. But they didn't take the turning for the common room, they took the opposite one, and began down a deep and depressing looking corridor.

Harry opened his mouth in protest but was cut short. A force suddenly hit him that threw the wind from his chest. It had come from nowhere, with no warning nor had he seen anything coming his way.

Recovering, he realised that force was Daphne. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and buried her face into his chest. It took him a full second of processing to realise they were in a hug.

"Daphne… ?"

"Don't…" she mumbled into his shirt, "... just… hold me, for a bit."

There was a pleading in her tone that was quite unlike anything he'd heard from her before. He'd heard a lot of things from Daphne tonight that had surprised him, but that was by far what had taken the cake. She sounded like a child.

He slowly pulled his arms around her.

It had been so long since he had been this intimate with another person. It wasn't something Ron or Hermione or even Sirius could do; Daphne holding him like this was unreal. Nostalgia and guilty memories of the year gone by swept by him, passing like they were only yesterday, yet also feeling a lifetime ago.

The seconds ticked and as her presence became ever more known to him, his grip on her tightened steadily. Soon he was holding her with a passion that rivalled hers, holding her close as she would simply vanish into nothing if he dared let go.

"I miss you."

Her words washed over him like a cool breeze. Recognition and the sweet taste of validation swept through his mind.

Absently, in an almost dream-like state, he replied.

"I miss you, too."

He was so lost in the moment that it took him far longer than it should have to decipher what the wetness forming on his chest was.

"Are you crying?"

"Yes."

Her answer was as straightforward as when he'd asked her if she was drunk. He appreciated it, but it also gave none of the much needed context he hoped would accompany it. Moments later he got his wish.

"Can I confine in you?" her voice was a hoarse whisper.

They were rather past that point by now, he answered mentally. He nodded to her.

"I need help, Harry."

"With what?"

"I can't say."

He was sober, he had the level head to understand why that was contradictory to what she just asked. Regardless, he remained silent. If after all this time she was finally about to open up, he was determined not to push. It was the first he'd seen of the real Daphne all year, at this point he was just happy to be being spoken to.

"Promise me... that you will not tell anybody..."

A shaky breath rattled from her. She sagged against him, shaking.

"I promise. With all my heart."

He knew this was the moment they'd been building up towards.

"I cannot continue to do this anymore…"

He left a second for a follow up but received none.

"Doing... what?" he repeated.

"_This_. All of it. I want to run away, but, no matter where I go…" her voice cracked miserably, "... I always feel like somebody is following me."

"Who is following you?"

She sniffed hard. He felt another wave of tears sink into his blazer.

"Nobody. It's _me_ I'm trying to run from. I can't escape from being me."

He was speechless in what to say to that. Daphne's good eye was raw and red, and her face looked swollen. The girl before him seemed to be struggling with something inside herself, as though she was fighting desperately against something trying to break out of her.

Her head sank into his chest again and a shudder rattled through her body. She was crying genuinely now.

The girl he'd known to be solid as a brick had crumpled. It felt like the woman he was holding wasn't the real Daphne, but some pale imitation wearing her skin. He'd only seen her in a state like this once before, when she had ratted out the DA to Umbridge. He'd too preoccupied for it to affect him then, but it did now. For a long time he didn't know if she would talk again, if she _could _talk again.

"Daphne…" he tried.

She suddenly looked bolt up-right at him, locking his eyes with her blood-raw one.

"I missed you more than I ever imagined I could miss somebody! I don't know why I've got this _stupid _hyperfixation on you, Harry… you're just the only good thing I've ever had in my life," she tightened her grip around his waist, "I'm so sorry I pushed you away. You're the only one that likes me for me, I don't feel like I have to pretend when I'm around you."

Her words activated something inside him and his next sentence leapt from his mouth on instinct.

"That's not true, Daphne! People like you, lots of people care about you!"

She screwed up her face as though she'd tasted something revolting..

"No, that's not…" she shook her head as she struggled, "... just... shut up! Okay?"

That was more of the Daphne he knew. Even when confessing it had to be on her terms and unquestioned.

That made things worse. It meant the woman he was looking at _was _Daphne Greengrass. And that she'd been broken. Seeing her in this state unsettled something deep inside him. What had happened to her? What manner of unspeakable thing could change a person so fundamentally from their core?

The anger rising inside him was second only to the sadness swelling in his heart.

Harry had no intention of interrupting her further.

"I always tried to make people think good of me…" she spoke slowly, painfully, as though each word tore away a part of her.

Daphne dragged her head across his chest, looking almost like she was trying to vanish entirely inside of him.

"I pretend I'm the best because I _know_ that I'm the worst... and now it's finally caught up to me. I've done _nothing _but hurt people, my father thinks I'm a disgrace and I was horrible to you! I'm the opposite of how I want to be and... a-and I don't know how I let myself drop this low!"

Her speech was slurred and often bogged down by her choked out breaths, but he had heard every word.

"I'll help you… Whatever it is, I'll help you…" he repeated blankly.

She met his eyeline again. Even through her tears he could see she suddenly had a much harder expression on now.

"Nobody can know, _please_, Harry," she pleaded. "Nobody can know I've told you! If you tell anyone - anyone at all, they'll find out and they'll kill me."

Harry stared at her.

What could be bad enough to make a girl like Daphne collapse? What kind of force could shatter an immovable object?

"What is it?"

Daphne didn't answer.

Instead she pulled a sleeve of her dress back. Slowly and with the same kind of deliberate care one would use while defusing a bomb, she began unravelling bandages on her arm. Round and round they went, slowly unveiling more and more skin that looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in months.

It felt like she'd been winding for ten minutes by the time the last of the bandages finally dropped to the ground.

What he saw next froze his blood.

The Dark Mark stood out prominently against her pale skin.

He couldn't look at it, not really; the true meaning behind it was too large for his mind to gather all at once. The tattoo was menacing but it was the implication that struck him deeper. Like ink in a glass of water, everything suddenly polluted in a way that would never be the same.

He couldn't fully keep the surprise off his face. The smallest twinge went through his scar.

It meant all that he had done, all that had been done to him… All the Order and the Ministry had accomplished, all of the suffering Hogwarts had endured… All the Wizarding World had gone through, after years of struggle and corruption and the death of innocents…

Had all been for nothing.

"You _are _a Death Eater..."

In that second, he knew the war was lost. Daphne was everything good to him. If the infectious conflict had wormed itself inside the castle and gotten to her, what was the point of anything, anymore?

When he finally looked back at her, he found her staring at the mark, white as a sheet. An uninterrupted second lingered in the air. Harry felt almost as if he was intruding on something personal between the two.

She dragged herself from her trance and pulled her dresses sleeve back down, obscuring the mark from view.

"Please, don't hate me..." her voice cracked. "They made me, I didn't want to… They want me to seduce you and bring you to them, that's what _he _wanted me to do. That's why I left you - I never wanted to do it!"

It was at that instant, Daphne's words shred his heart into pieces.

"You were protecting me?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She clung desperately to him.

"Yes! I told you that I was! I was trying to… I didn't want you to hate me, but I couldn't be near you anymore! And I couldn't tell you because… _because…" s_he threw her arms dramatically into the air all of a sudden. "Because then you'd try to help me, because that's what you _do_! That's what you always do! And I thought I could handle it on my own, but… but, I can't stand it anymore. I can't live like this!"

Her choice of wording made her even stop sounding like Daphne now. Her voice whimpered miserably and she brought her arms back down to swipe uselessly at the air, but he could see the power she put behind it.

"Shh, shhh, it's alright, it's alright!"

He wrenched a hand out in reassurance, which Daphne met by diving back into him. She resumed her position from earlier, shoving her face into his chest as the tears came freely from her.

"They've made me do horrible things - immoral things!"

He pulled his arms tightly around her.

The fact it was the only reassurance he could offer didn't sit well with him. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her until everything was okay.

The party felt a million miles away. Dumbledore's task about Slughorn, the drama between Ron and Hermione, it was all nothing. They went over him like a passing breeze, but not this. Not Daphne. The moment his life truly started was the moment he made his first ever decision for himself and chose to start seeing her. She was his freedom; she was the saviour from the future he wanted no part in but was destined to lead. She was _his _and he was going to protect her.

There was not a doubt in his mind that her words were genuine. He didn't care what she had done. He didn't care about blood loyalty or social circles. Being a social outcast meant nothing to him now. She was everything good in his life and he was watching her cry. Hate and rage was swelling throughout his body. Anger at her father for not protecting her. Fury at Voldemort's ruthlessness. Hatred for Snape, so much hate for Snape... But none more so than what he felt for himself.

She was completely right in what she said. He helped people. He didn't do it because he was the Chosen One, he was the Chosen One because he helped people. Yet here she was, the one most in need of his help and she'd had to go through it all alone. He had only himself to blame. He was not going to let her down this time. He would place himself between her and her father and fight until his last breath to make sure he'd never see her in this state again.

He brought his head down to his ear and said his next words with solidarity.

"I won't let them get you, Daphne. We'll get you help, I promise. We'll go to Dumbledore - we'll go to the Order of the Phoenix."

She dragged herself away from him suddenly.

"No! Nobody can know!" she said desperately, clutching his hand.

He was used to being stronger than her, so when she tore herself from his arms with such ease it left him still on the spot. A second later, he started again.

"You tell them what you just told me - they have ways of protecting you! Voldemort will never know!"

"Stop! You can't promise that! Please, old gods, don't tell anybody, Harry!"

Her words were so loud they echoed a number of times down the abandoned corridor.

He was struck with silence.

He didn't see what else that left him with. It would be the two of them against Voldemort's entire army. He'd do everything he could but knew what their chances were on their own. She came to him wanting help, was it his failure for not seeing any other alternatives?

No, he couldn't second guess himself now. He was right, Daphne was just scared. She didn't want to take a stand against her father, that's what it was, his decision was just. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were the best place for her - the only place for her. He wasn't failing her by trying to pass her off onto someone else, this was him recognising were their best chances lay.

He would stick with Daphne in what was about to come, but it couldn't be as straightforward as she was asking for. She'd have to compromise as well. If she wanted help then this was their only way. Harry opened his mouth, confident in his certainty, but was cut short by another wail from Daphne.

"I'm begging you, don't tell anybody! I've given you what you asked! I've told you what happened, now please… I'm _asking _you not to tell anybody!"

Her teary, grief stricken eye struck another chord with him. His mind was numb with conflict. He wished he could give her everything that she was asking for, he truly did. He wanted to make her pain go away and be the one who saved her from it all. But he knew of the contractions in her words, she didn't. He could help her - he _would _help her - but it couldn't be in the way she was asking for.

He took Daphne into his arms again. Her expression unfathomable, she limply fell into him, neither returning the hug or fighting against it.

He _was _going to help her, that wasn't up for debate. Exactly how he was going to go about it, however…

Silence settled over the corridor.

Their words had been bled dry, but they remained on that spot for a long while after.

They stood as motionless as statues, clung tight to one another as though they expected to disappear any moment. They filled each others gaps and become one complete entity, reaching a feeling of limbo that neither side wanted to exit from. Time no longer existed for them and if it wasn't of the essence, then they could have held each other like that for the rest of eternity.

More time passed before they eventually broke their embrace; regrettably it was unbeknownst to both of them that the other side wanted to stay longer. When they decided to return to Slughorn's party later that night, it was as two different people to the ones' who had left it.

They had reached the shatterpoint. Everything depended on them now.

* * *

_A/N Longest chapter in the series, thank you to everyone who stuck with us to this point. Would love to hear your thoughts!_


	18. His Greatest Gift

To be sixteen and only just experiencing her first hangover, she should consider herself lucky.

She hadn't planned on getting as drunk as she had, otherwise she would have had the good sense to have ready a vial of hangover potion. She'd have to drag herself to the hospital wing for that. It was only a few floors up, but in her current state that might as well have been the other side of the Great Lake. She slipped out early and unnoticed. From what she remembered about last night, she was in no rush to see either Tracey or Dominique again. When she moved, she moved quickly, the dungeons were freezing and there was only so much heating enchantments could do at this time of the year.

Daphne had entered a dormant state; it was all she could do to manage the conflicts going on inside her. Memories on replay and confused emotions clouded her brain from the night before.

Familiar feelings swarmed in her chest, but it came as a great deal of shock to her that not all of them were unpleasant. She felt a lot of ways about last night but, surprisingly, regret was not one of them. It was as though a great weight had suddenly been lifted; it would have been relieving, if not for the daunting prospects that carried with it.

On the way up, she noticed the changes in the environment around her. The castle seemed different, somehow. Things appeared to her more clearly, she no longer saw just a corridor, but the individual students it held, the classrooms leading off from it and each portraits that adorned its walls. Realistically, it was likely down to hyper sensitivity caused by her hangover, but that didn't explain why - despite the cold - things felt like a warm hue had settled over the scenery. Indeed, in spite of the raging wind outside and her breath rising into mist before her, it couldn't be denied that things had an air of cosines about them now.

"Madam Pomfrey, do you have anything for hangover?"

The Hogwarts Healer gave an all-too-knowing smile.

"Oh dear, another one from Slughorn's Christmas bash?"

Daphne nodded slower than usual.

"You're the fourth one I've had this morning!" she tutted, shaking her head. "You should count yourself lucky, though, poor Mister McLaggan can barely talk. I suspect he's still drunk from last night, I've had to send him back to bed with detoxification potion. I'll grab you something my dear!"

Madam Pomfrey began to move freely about the ward, making frequent turns back to continue addressing her.

"Oh, that's Skye Parkin and Gweong Jones in the end beds, by the way! Just if you want to go say hello! Both with sprained limps after attempting a drunk-riding race, idiot girls… Now, normally I treat my patients health very confidentiality, but neither of them will be getting any sympathy from me after _that mess at last years Cup!"_

It took a second for her to catch what the Healer was referencing. A weak smile formed on her lips over the thought of Madam Pomfrey being a Quidditch loyalist. The Healer in question returned a moment later, handing her off a small blue vial.

"Wiggenweld. It should do the job. Anything else I can help you with, dear?"

Daphne shook her head and was about to say her farewells, when a point suddenly occurred to her.

"How long until I can I take this off?" she gestured weakly to her face, the eye-patch specifically.

"Soon, I should suspect!" Madam Pomfrey modded. "Tomorrow should be fine, just be prepared for some scarring."

She gave a disheartened mumble as response.

That word had been thrown around so much these past days she was beginning to grow sick of it. She'd imagined everything from a gigantic gash splitting her face down the middle to the tiniest, barely visible line, to an exact replica of Harry's scar, just adorning the opposite side of her face. At this point she just wanted to see what the bloody thing looked like so she could start preparing ways to hide it.

Vial now in hand, Daphne turned to make her way to breakfast. Only, it felt like she was missing something. That feeling of content returned to her and she turned back around, flashing Madam Pomfrey a sudden smile.

"Have a nice day, Madam Pomfrey!"

The Healer looked back up from her work and returned her smile.

"You too, dear!"

She vacated the room, vaguely taken aback by her own sudden outburst. It was a short walk to the Great Hall and upon entry, she found she was one of the first people up.

It looked incredible in there, as it often did during the festive season. Mistletoe and holly hung from the ceilings and no less than twelve full-sized Christmas trees adorned the room. It was colder than in the corridor, having not fully warmed up yet, but the beginnings of breakfast had began appearing on the house tables.

She helped herself to a hot chocolate and poured the blue vial into it before taking a sip. Almost immediately the beating sensation in her head began to dull, she was grateful. She brought herself to some toast with full intention of eating her problems away until such a time where she felt confident trying to confront them herself.

Not all changes around the castle were positive. As she walked, she felt embarrassment lingering not far behind. It was stupid, really. Nobody but Harry had seen her that way. It was more the principle of it that had taken the biggest blow. She felt exposed for what she really was now; a coward. Her true nature had been revealed and the protecting persona she often hid behind was dead and buried. Considering how confident she'd been about it, it left her with a very apparent unpleasantness whenever the events of last night crossed her mind.

The Ice Queen might never have existed, but now she barely felt like Daphne Greengrass either.

It didn't look like things had changed - she still woke up in the same bed and moved through the same morning routine - but she wasn't living the same life as before. It was difficult processing the extents of this new reality, of her new canon of life. This was the reality where she was a Death Eater and where Harry Potter was in her life again.

It was also where her head was beating with the power of a thousand suns.

Quicker than she would have liked, Daphne had company.

"Goooood mornin', my little party animal!"

She quickly pushed her anxieties to the back of her mind and returned to her breakfast plate. Tracey threw herself down on the seat opposite and Dominique placed herself gently beside her.

"What was I drinking last night? My head feels horrific."

"Red wine for most of it, then you swapped to whiskey about midnight. Rookie mistake! You should never mix, especially not wines."

"Who was I talking for ages with about Wizard Broadway?"

Tracey cackled, "Melinda Bobbin, Hufflepuff, you two were gettin' along really well! Half expected yous to start singing that duet from Bigfoots Last Stand!"

"Et was a magnifique night!

"It was pretty sick," she nodded, "Shame we had to go early because of _someone_."

It took Daphne a moment to realise that was directed at her.

"What?"

"You were _gone_!" she laughed. "Do you remember being sick in the corridor?"

She turned her nose up at the memory. Unfortunately, she did remember that part.

"I am... sorry about that."

"It's cool! You're not used to it. That'll change after our NEWTs, though," Tracey added with a wink. "And this was all _after _you stole Dom's date, of course."

Daphne took a sharp inhale of breath.

"You did not dire me you two were an item, I had no idea!" Dominique spoke in a shrill cry.

Last night was fuzzy. She knew what was said, but that was about it. After she and Harry spoke they went back to the party together and she got more drunk. After that things passed like a blur. She had a memory of kissing someone - Harry, she hoped - and then of her incident on the way back to the common room.

"I kissed him, didn't I?" she spoke quietly and mostly to herself.

Tracey and Dominique looked awkwardly between themselves.

"We were... hopin' you wouldn't remember that part."

Daphne stared into her breakfast.

Maybe that was the source of the animosity she was feeling? She'd been wanting to kiss Harry again for months, it shouldn't have happened while she was drunk. Now it sat in her head as a messy blur and not the significant moment it should have been.

"Better than Blaise, I suppose?" Tracey offered. "He kept tryin' it on with everyone there. Apart from me, of course. I reckon I intimate him... Shame as well, 'cause I'd probably have said yeah. Love me some dark chocolate."

"Did anyone see us?" she asked almost in a moan.

Tracey smiled uneasily and Daphne's stomach dropped. She only gave that kind of smile when she was telling a half-truth.

"You had the good sense to be behind a curtain when you did, don't worry. Harry ended up leaving not long after Draco crashed the party, anyway. So damage there is minimized, at least. That is… if it _was _damage and not intention?"

For her to not tease her during a conversation about something like this was odd, but now she knew why. She was asking her if it was a drunken mistake or her plan all along.

How did she answer that it was a rough amalgamation of both? She intended on talking to him last night, intended on confessing to him, but the crying and snogging part was a surprise to her as well.

"I did what I needed to. He took it well, considering…"

"Considerin'…?" Tracey repeated.

All at once, Daphne realised why she felt so exposed suddenly. Her hand quickly slapped onto her arm, creating a noise which reverberated across the Great Hall a number of times.

"I took my bandages off!"

Tracey frowned.

"You mean you don't have any on right now?"

"No!"

"Can I see?"

"Tracey!"

The girl shook her head and returned to the conversation. She leaned in quickly, her face ashen.

"Ah, erm... look, the dress was long sleeve, right? Nobody could have seen?"

"That's not the point! I was drunk - I don't know what I was doing! Anyone could have seen it!"

"Do you zelf'arm? Iz zhat what we're talking about?"

Tracey made a noise like Dominique had just stabbed her in the leg.

"Oh my god, no, Dom! That's not… no, she doesn't. Don't go there, bad territory."

Daphne began to feel numb as the panic setting in and she began strategically planning her next move.

"I need to go back to my dorm before lesson."

"Before _lesson_?"

"Zhe 'ospital wing ez closer."

Daphne stared at Dominique, amazed that she'd actually said something useful for once.

"Good idea! I'll see you two in…?"

Tracey shook her head.

"It's… Sunday?"

Daphne fumbled to shove the last of her toast in her mouth as she stood up.

"Right, well…. I'll see you when I see you. Bye, Dom."

She flashed them both a wave and took off out the Great Hall in a fast pace.

"Hey, she actually said bye to you this time?" Tracey said brightly.

Dominique sank into her seat.

"Zhe already 'ates me, and now zhe thinks I tried taking 'er boyfriend!"

* * *

"You could have a smashing career as a Quidditch Player if the whole Dark-Wizard hunting thing doesn't work out!"

"I really appreciate that, genuinely! Thank you so much!"

When Daphne reentered the hospital wing, she walked head-first into a conversation between a taller, blue-haired woman and a sight she hadn't expected to see so soon. The woman, who she now recognised as Skye Parkin, rose to attention.

"You're looking better than last night! Daffy, wasn't it?"

The realisation of who she was talking to finally settled and her instincts kicked in, she straightened her back and produced a hand.

"Daphne Greengrass. It's an honour to meet you, Miss Parkin."

Skye gave a throaty laugh and grabbed her hand with a rough shake, then turned back to him.

"Doesn't remember anything, bless her! Probably for the best! Have a smashing day, you lot! See you later, Madam Pomfrey!"

Her worrying words aside, Daphne flashed Skye another polite smile as she exited the Hospital Wig.

She tried to turn back to where he was standing, but stopped. There was a pause, in which it felt some kind of invisible wall rose between them.

Her breath caught in her chest.

What did she even say? What could she say? She hadn't planned on seeing him again so quickly, she needed time to prepare. Meeting a world-famous Quidditch Player passed her by like it was nothing, it paled in comparison to being in his presence again. She almost wished she was still drunk.

"Back already, my dear?" Madam Pomfrey re-entered the scene.

She forced out a nod.

"Yes - erm... the bandages on my chest got ruined last night. I was hoping I could collect some more?"

"Yes, shouldn't be a problem! Plonk yourself on the bed and pop your top off," she gestured to the closest cubical, "I'll draw the curtain."

"I was hoping I could just grab them and go, actually? I'm late for…"

Drat, it _was _a Sunday.

She couldn't be late for revision, that sounded ridiculous.

"Prefect duties," he answered for her.

She flashed him an impossibly quick appreciative smile.

"Yes, prefect duties."

"Mmhmm. Not like me to let a patient go without the proper care, but last thing I need is Snape howling up my rear end. Here you are, my dear. No need to return them."

Bandages were ushered into her hand and she was free from the conversation. Madam Pomfrey left the scene and gain, Daphne felt her energy seeping over to her right side.

Giving in, she finally turned to him. Harry gave a weak, hopeful smile, his arms half-raised. He seemed momentarily surprised that he was here himself.

Nothing but the sight of him could have given her the strength to completely sober up on the spot.

Daphne sighed.

"Are you busy right now?"

He shook his head awkwardly.

"No... actually, I just came down to meet Skye before she left… Didn't have a chance to last night, because…" his words petered out uselessly.

She had wanted to wait longer before doing this. She needed time to prep, get her story straight and priorities in order.

This was her being put on the spot, the difference now was she wasn't about to freeze again.

"It's busy here. We shouldn't be seen together."

"Yeah..."

They moved towards the exit together.

"Follow a few paces behind me."

She told him this and left the room without waiting to see if he had acknowledged it.

Unlike earlier, the corridor was now full to the brim. A crowd had gathered nearby, apparently Skype Parkin hadn't gotten too far before students started noticing who she was.

It made it easy for her to slip by unnoticed and head down the History of Magic corridor. She kept that direction for a couple more meters until the social noises began to fade and she came across the door to an empty classroom. She cast an unlocking spell over the door and allowed herself in - which she was perfectly allowed to do, being a Prefect, thank you very much.

The classroom was draughty, the cool air sank to her bones almost immediately. The seconds it took to wait for Harry were some of the longest in her life.

"Are we okay in here?" he asked, entering behind her.

She nodded and saw him standing by the door to the room, staring sheepishly back at her.

Again, her words were struggled to find her.

Daphne felt thoroughly out of her depth. He seemed to be in the same boat as her, she observed. It had been a very long time since they had felt this awkward around one another. He was handsome even when he was like tgis. That made things so much more difficult. As shallow as it made her sound, none of this would have ever happened if he looked like Longbottom.

They looked at each other for a long moment. She felt a burning desire to run from the room, but at the same time, a complete inability to move her feet.

Sometime later, she found her words again.

"I am… sorry. About last night," her mouth was very dry. "I apologise that you had to see me like that."

"Please don't. I'm glad that I did."

Harry moved closer to touch her, Daphne flinched away from him.

"I should not have said anythi-"

"Daphne, just don't, okay?"

Volume had gathered in his voice from nowhere.

"You spoke to me properly for the first time in months. We _got on_ for the first time in months. Don't take that away now."

Daphne let her chin sink into her chest and her eyelids scraped shut. She wasn't about to argue with that tone.

"Nobody can know what I told you," she said quietly.

"I won't tell anybody - you will."

She opened her eye and leaned back.

"What?"

"You said you wanted help, didn't you?"

"Yes, though..." she coughed her voice back to life,"... I didn't _mean… literally_, in a sense… there's nothing you can do, I merely meant I didn't want to be _alone _anymore."

Harry gave her a look she could only describe as melancholy sympathy.

"Then don't do it on your own, let me help you. I _want _to help, Daphne. But… there's only so much I can do on my own. Let me take you to Dumbledore so you can tell him what you told me?"

Her heart sank right past it's usual spot and into the pit of her stomach. She saw this conversation going a number of ways, but this wasn't one of them.

"Please, stop - " she struggled "- Do _not _talk to me about him. You know why I can't do that."

"You need help and this is the way. "

"Harry, we are at _war _with one another! You can't just ask me to swap alliances like that!"

"Well, how's your side been working out for you?"

Daphne did not say anything to that; his words were quite true, but over her dead body would she acknowledge it.

She felt like she'd been punched in the gut by the Whomping Willow. He was outright asking her to change sides of a war. She tried her best to remain expressionless. In the end, no matter how much she wanted, no matter how much it hurts… she couldn't quite make herself believe they could ever be on the same side.

She wasn't hearing this. She couldn't be. The Harry she knew wouldn't ask something like that of her.

"I don't want _him…" _she forced out, "I want _you_. I know - roughly - what I need to do from here on... I just need the support to do it."

"To do what?"

"I don't - _have _\- a plan yet!"

In Merlin's name, he could make her angry without even trying.

"But as soon as I know I have allies I can make one in accordanc-"

"Oh, Daphne, stop it!"

He raised his voice again and she sank away from his face. He was the only man capable of intimidating her; it was because he was the only man whose opinion truly mattered to her.

She knew trying further was pointless, he was seeing right through everything she was doing.

"Don't raise your voice at me, Harry."

Her words came out way more threatening than she intended, but that was her second nature when on the defensive. Her intention aside, what she said registered with him and she saw his shoulders noticeably deflate a little.

This was why she had wanted time before speaking to him again. It was a dangerous game she was playing and a single foot out of line could spell disaster. There was a lot she wanted to say to him, but it was going to take time to figure out what she _could_ say to him. It wasn't a case of all cards on the table, as much as she wanted it to be, now it just meant holding them closer to her chest now than ever.

He was trying to help her, she wanted his help, it should be as simple as that. That's all that should matter anymore - and maybe last night it _had _been like that - but it wasn't now.

"Are you staying for the Christmas holidays?"

He seemed taken aback by the sudden and out-of-nowhere question.

"I'm staying with Sirius... Why?"

"Father doesn't want me back," Daphne sighed. "That's not permanent, I imagine... but the way things have been going recently it it probably for the best me and him aren't together for a while. If you were staying as well then, I thought… but never mind... it doesn't matter."

"You thought what?"

He moved closer to her again.

This time, while she didn't retreat from him, she turned her back on him. Talking to an empty wall felt a lot easier than having to look him in the eye.

"I _thought…_" she repeated, "... maybe, we could spend some time together. Figure out what the plan is... That is, if you did still want to help me?"

"Of course I do, Daphne. That's all I've wanted this whole time."

She didn't hear him reach her. If he had seen the look on her face, he might have thought twice about it.

His arms moved in around her shoulders and the tentative softness of his breath came to her ears. She abandoned any withstanding restraint, within seconds of contact she could feel herself melting into him. She was being held tight against his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, and his breath touched her hair in the softest caress... Just him breathing in her presence was enough to make her heart flutter.

By the old gods, this felt so much better sober than when she was drunk.

"You shouldn't touch me..." she said quietly.

"Should I stop?"

She swallowed before answering, trying to fight off the redness rising in her cheeks.

"No…"

If it didn't feel so good, Daphne would have been disgusted in herself with how quickly she left her guard down. She wanted every inch of herself to collapse back into him. Had he gotten taller since last year? They usually had equal footing, but now he seemed inches above her.

"I never needed to ask before?" his voice pricked the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Things are different now..." she grumbled, "We're having a _conversation, _it doesn't mean we're back together."

His chest deflated. She might have been maybe too much attention to it, or maybe it was wishful thinking, but his sigh sounded disappointed.

"We shouldn't even _be_ talking, Harry. You're in danger around me..." she said quietly. "... you need to be scared."

He chuckled, she felt the vibration of it against her back.

"I'm bloody terrified," his mouth was inches from her ear. "But being scared and still doing what needs to be done is what makes you brave."

She lowered her chin against his arm, which were wrapped around her chest.

"_Idiot_ Gryffindor..." she cursed him.

He lout out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a tut. Her body moved limply with the rise and fall of his chest.

Way too soon, he released her. If she'd have taken a second longer to break from her trance, she'd have dropped uselessly to the floor.

When the time she was able to face him, a startling face of excitement met her.

"You should come with me!"

"What?"

"Come with me for the holidays, it's perfect! We have a safe house where you could meet the Order of the Phoenix, you'd be completely safe there, nobody would even know!"

She lifted her head, an instant scowl gathering on her face. Why would he suggest something so ridiculous?

"Harry, don't be absur-"

"No, genuinely, just think!" he jumped in quick. "I'll take you to them and you just tell them everything you've told me. Say you're conflicted and you don't want to be a Death Eater but you got forced into it. They will understand that, I promise! They can help you figure things out, plus, there's so much protection that even if Voldemort found out - which he couldn't - there's nothing he'd be able to do about it!"

He had spoken so quickly and been so enthusiastic about his idea, she almost felt bad shutting him down. Daphne's mouth compressed into a thin, bitter line.

If not for the repercussions that would follow, she'd love to agree to everything he was proposing without limit. If they could spend Christmas together, even if it was just for one day, then Sacred Twenty-Eight could become the Sacred Twenty-Seven for all she cared. She'd love to let the scandal come. It wouldn't destroy their lives, not their real ones anyway, just the ones they manufactured for people to see. It'd all be worth it for the trade.

She cursed him for even suggesting something such a thing. Her heart didn't need his help getting it's hope up.

"I appreciate what you're offering, really… But that's too far. That is just…"

This - right now - was what she needed. To be here with him, and back in the privacy of a classroom all to themselves.

"Daphne…"

She turned to him, pulling herself reluctantly from his exchange.

"No, Harry. I mean it. You're asking me is to defect from the Death Eaters and betray my father. I simply cannot do that.. and trust me, it's not through lack of want, either."

"But nobody has to know about it?"

Daphne gave a weary, nostalgic-ridden smile.

"I seem to recall us making similar promises to each other once upon a time... look how that turned out."

Harry, uneasy, looked to have finally conceded.

"Kind of a low blow. Things would be different this time."

"They _are _different this time. I'm different, this time. I'm making a stand against my father and those with ill intent… but I need to do it my way. This is far bigger than either of us and one foot out of line could get us killed."


	19. Her Brave, New World

"YOU LOT 'AVE A GOODEN NOW, YA 'EAR!" Hagrid bellowed louder than the train's horn.

Regrettably, when Harry loaded himself and his luggage onto the Hogwarts Express, he was on his own.

He tried not to let his disappointment show, there was still no doubt in his mind this was going to be Christmas he'd ever had; lessons had been building up so much he was grateful for the time off, and a full two weeks of just he and Sirius was nothing to scoff at either. He knew when he offered her how unrealistic it was that Daphne would take him up on his offer, but there was a small hope in him that she might have changed her mind.

Unfortunately for him, his wish of not being on his own was soon granted, but not in the way he had hoped.

"It's such a shame we won't be able to spend Christmas together won-won!"

He'd finally been able to get Ron in his company, but somehow forgot he and Hermione weren't on speaking terms anymore. As such, the accidental trade resulted in Ron's leech of a girlfriend making up the third party of their usual trio.

"Yeah… absolutely…"

Harry smiled at his friends expense.

What was wrong with this girl? Granted, he didn't have a lot of experience with the opposite sex himself, but neither Cho or Daphne were ever this clingy with him. Cho held his hand and slumped against him when she had the chance, sure, but even she would turn her nose up with how much Lavender was draped across her boyfriend. Daphne, frankly, would've hexed them both on the spot for just making her witness to it.

That being said if anyone looked more uncomfortable than Harry in the carriage, it was definitely Ron.

It was going to be a long two hours back.

Hogwarts was only just beginning to disappear over the horizon and the train made its way deep into the snowy depths of the Scottish highlands.

The Slug Club had their own private carriage, Harry remembered. He'd turned down joining them on the basis he'd rather spend the time with his friends, but now he found himself regretting that decision deeply. He was stuck on quite what to talk about. There was nothing he had to say to Ron that he'd feel comfortable saying in front of Lavender, nor did she seem entirely at home sharing a carriage with Harry either. Ron's expression seemed a million miles away and he looked to be trying to phase himself out of the carriage entirely.

Mercifully, not ten minutes into their journey and salvation soon arrived in an unexpected form.

Hermione appeared at the carriage window and fumbled with the door to let herself in.

"Ronald, we've been summoned to a meeting in the lead carriage," she said like it pained her to do so, before adding a quick, "Prefects only."

Expectantly, Ron was on his feet in a hurry.

"Thank god."

He quickly tried forcing himself between Hermione and the door while never looking directly at her. She noticed Harry and flashed him a dry smile.

"Hello, Harry."

He did his best to nod in return, but was way too preoccupied waiting to see how she'd greet Lavender. When she didn't even acknowledge the girl in the compartment with them at all, Harry was outright impressed by her gaul.

Lavender watched miserably as Ron drained out of the room and she was left behind without a second glance back. It would have been schadenfreude for Harry, if he didn't just realise that now it was the two of them alone together.

A heavy, awkward silence settled over the two. Lavender's eyes slowly sank to meet his and reluctantly, she seemed to share his feelings of awkwardness.

"Lovely weather this time of year... don't you think?" she eased out.

Harry couldn't help it.

A laugh escaped his lips and he found Lavender chuckling as well.

Eventually, she too moved to her feet.

"Sorry about all that… We're a bit intense, I know," she said sheepishly.

Harry gave her a knowing smile.

"It's fine… you guys do you, I guess."

Lavender gave him another appreciative look and let herself out of the room.

Only when the door slid fully shut behind her did Harry exhale. Hermione had come as his saving grace. He had no desire to sit the long journey back on his own, but he'd willingly do twice that amount of time rather than play third wheel to _won-won_.

He moved to shuffle up against the window.

Nights hadn't been kind to him recently. It wasn't so much dreams that kept him awake - not like last year - now he just found it difficult sleeping all together. Thoughts about the future, drives to act and paranoid overthinking kept him up awake into the mornings. If it wasn't the coming conflict the Order was talking about, the cloud of suspicion surrounding Malfoy or the mission Dumbledore had set for him, then it was Daphne and their recent developments.

Now would be a good time to catch up. He wanted himself right and ready for the holidays with Sirius. With his family.

The window was difficult to get a good rest against. His head kept sliding off the building condensation and every time the train hit a bump, it'd smack him. So he brought his feet up on the seat and twisted to lean back against the window. That was better. Not perfect, mind, but with his arms crossed he found himself in a reasonably comfortable position to let himself drift away.

Of course he only had a few, dull seconds of this before a new noise made him stir. When Harry opened his eyes, the sight starring in on him made him do a startled double take. He hadn't fallen asleep that quickly, had he? He was dreaming, right?

No... Harry was very suddenly wide awake.

He shot to his feet and began fumbling to open the sliding door. It had barely been opened an inch before Daphne forced herself inside, loud crashing her a briefcase against the door-frame and seats as she moved to get in quickly. Once inside, she slammed the door shut behind and dragged the blinds down over the windows. He had barely moved from standing up, he was glued to the spot, almost unsure if his eyes were deceiving him.

"Daphne…" he said in disbelief, "I… can't believe you came."

She looked at him, he saw her face white as a sheet.

"I'm going to be sick."

She dropped her briefcase and fell limply onto the seat opposite him, burying her face behind her hands.

"I cannot believe I'm doing this," she mumbled, "I hate everything about this."

She then swiftly moved her hand to within inches of Harry's face; if he had been paying more attention he'd probably have flinched.

"I'm shaking, look at me!"

Sure enough, her hand was visibly vibrating and even looked cold to touch.

Finally his mind caught up with things.

Daphne was actually there. Here, with him. She'd actually taken him up on his offer. He'd given her an ultimatum and she'd picked him. His excitement over the bigger implications of that decision began to fill his head, but then got instantly drained out over the prospect of them spending Christmas together.

It took all he had to contain the joy spreading around him and force himself to a level-headed mindset.

"It's okay, it's okay…" he leaned forward in his seat, sitting reassuringly on the edge, "... you've made the right decision, I promise. The Order can help you."

"I'm not here for them, idiot."

Daphne made a guttural noise and leaned back, covering her face again with her hands.

"You cannot tell anybody about this. Nobody can know…" she again, spoke in a muffled voice, "Not Granger, not Weasley, nobody. I haven't even told Tracey… she thinks I'm sneaking home."

She looked like she was trying to disappear entirely behind her hands. Harry gave her a smile, which she didn't see. He tried to keep his voice as pleasant as he could, which was difficult with the excitement he was feeling.

The vibe she was giving off could only be compared to a deer in headlights, he certainly wasn't about to scare her away.

"I'm... _really_ glad you decided to do this."

Daphne groaned.

"Yes… well... I've had enough of waiting for things to work themselves out. I'm making my own decisions now."

She moved again and it was now he could see her face properly.

She looked rough. Her makeup was smudged and her hair had frizzed out, both presumably from the amount of times she'd rubbed her face with her hands. Her eyes kept darting suspiciously around the compartment, like she was simultaneously searching for someone while also looking she'd just apparated here on accident.

What was far more noticing than state she was in, however, was the fact that she once had _two _eyes, but with now one adorning an eyebrow slit.

Harry smiled at her, trying to be comforting, but his attention was now on the new gap cutting her brow in half.

"I like your eyebrow," he said without thinking.

It would be good to chance to subject, right? Try and get her mind off things?

She didn't see it that way. Her nose screwed up and she shifted her hand to rub the area he was talking about.

"I hate it. It is a scar, not fashion. I look like someone from one of Astoria's bands."

Harry gave her a reassuring laugh.

"It looks good, really! I like it."

But she didn't seem convinced. Her face was just as troubled as when she had arrived, but now, he observed, she'd taken to frantically bouncing her knee up and down on the spot.

"Could I sit next to you?" she asked abruptly.

He nodded and budged back over to his place by the window.

She practically launch herself to his side. It wasn't a hug or anything as intimate as that, but their legs now pressed against each other and he could tell she was intentionally pushing against him. It was rare he saw her this uncomfortable. The physical contact probably did a lot for her. He itched to comfort her some more, but it was a conscious decision by him not to overstep his bounds.

"Run me through who I will be meeting. I need to know what to say."

At their sudden proximity, Harry could feel himself growing spicy armpits.

"Well… it'll just be me and Sirius. He's my godfather."

"Sirius Black, yes, that's right... " she said quietly, and mostly to herself, "... the one from the papers. You still need to explain to me why he is your godfather."

"I mean, we have time now?"

"I'd rather not, thanks. Does he live alone?"

"As far as I know… I mean, if you really don't want to meet the rest of the Order, it should just be us, him and the house elf."

She did not speak for a moment, but her expression hardened intensely.

"Just us… right, just us…"

Now the bouncing of her knee seemed even more intense.

He said nothing.

She had been a thousand miles away from their compartment since she entered. It was obvious there was a lot going on in her head, he almost felt like he was being left out of a clearly important conversation.

He was truly lost on what to do. He knew he wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how to go about it without making things worse. Ron hated being touched when he was upset, Hermione liked it, Cho liked it, so he thought it was a female thing, but yesterday Daphne had told him off for hugging her. Yet, now she was pushing herself up against him? The latest in a very long list of her saying one thing but doing the other.

It was stunning this past week that he'd seen so many sides of Daphne that he didn't know existed before. Their entire first year together, she'd been seductive, demanding and confident, that was all a far cry from the shivering girl sat beside him now. He wanted to help her get back to that, but he couldn't offer her any more help than what they were both already heading towards on the train. She was so defensive that he really didn't know what, if anything, he could do to comfort her in the meantime...

Wearily, he tried offering her another encouraging smile.

"Sirius actually really wants to meet you. He knows about us… he approves. You saved his life at the Department of Mysteries."

Daphne shook her head, still staring off into oblivion.

"I did no such thing. And rest assured, if I did, it was by accident."

He waited for her to say something else, but she didn't. He waited another few seconds before speaking again.

"Daphne?"

Her head abruptly cracked upwards like she had just heard a loud noise

"Merlin's Beard, what am I doing!?" she hissed, "I can't do this. I can't do this!"

She moved and looked like she was about to make a go for the door, which made Harry finally give in. He grabbed her cold hand and wrapped it tightly in his own. To his surprise, she gripped it back even harder.

"I'll be with you the whole time, Daphne! You're completely safe with us!"

"It's not you lot I'm worried about!"

A sudden knock at the carriage door and Daphne's head snapped up in alarm. They looked at each other, long and hard. He could practically see the panic spreading across her face.

_"Who is that!?" _

Harry blinked.

"I don't know? Probably just someone looking for a seat!"

She threw his hand viciously away from hers and hissed at him again.

_"Get rid of them!"_

Alarmed by her sudden outburst, Harry felt obliged to do so. He stood up and unlocked the door, opening it just enough inches for him to fit his face out.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?"

"No, thank yo-"

"_Harry!"_

He sighed and brought his head back inside to carriage.

"_What?"_

"_Can you get me a chocolate frog, please?"_

Harry stared back at her, dumbfounded. Apparently she took his confusion as hesitation.

"_I'll pay for it!" _she pushed.

Slowly, he returned to the Trolly Lady, still processing what just happened. He made the exchange with her and purchased a single chocolate frog, then pulled the carriage door shut again between them.

He handed Daphne the chocolate and she was quick to tear open the packaging.

"_Immobulus." _

The frog froze on the spot and she snatched it up.

Harry blinked. He would have to remember that. Ron told him that charm wouldn't work on the frogs and he'd have to catch them himself. He'd be consulting Fred and George about retaliation.

Daphne took off the frog's head in a single bite and after chewing it, let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Mmhmm..." she nodded, chewing. "... that's… okay… I'm sorry, I'm just ratherstressed. As you can understand, I'm sure."

There was a notable change in her tone that made Harry's face light up.

"Honestly…" he shook his head, "... I didn't think you'd actually come. It's good, really. Thank you."

She gave a bitter, joyless laugh.

"I could seriously go for a glass of wine, right now. Nothing since leaving the common room feels real. I had to rush my things, I'm not even entirely sure what I've brought with me."

Harry had to mull that one over before he responded.

"Sirius has a wine cellar, I think? Three could sit down for a drink once we've get settled?"

She nodded, but looked more like she was reassuring herself of something than agreeing with him.

"That sounds nice…" she mumbled quietly, "Yes, that sounds nice."

To his surprise, it was her that moved to retake his hand. Her movements were gentle, she interlacing their fingers together, with his hand on top of hers. It instilled an automatic, almost mandatory swelling to happen in the pit of his stomach.

It felt almost childish to describe a woman of her stature as cute, but blimey, he could have scooped her into his arms and squeezed her to death at that moment. After all they had been through, really why did he still get butterflies around her?

Daphne shifted back into her seat, he moved with her and their shoulders now pushed against each other. From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see the redness on her cheeks.

She was a lot more sensitive than he had first thought. He felt like he'd gotten to know the real Daphne more this past week than all of last year. They were really going to be in uncharted territory with whatever happened once they got off this train. He'd stick with her, but he'd be lying if he said he was confident in himself to give her everything she wanted. But he would try his best, because she deserved that, and that was half the battle.

And indeed, there would be a lot of trying.

"I can't do this! No! Absolutely not!"

"Oh, Daphne! Sit down!"

* * *

Coming back to London always felt like a short journey; that was because he'd always have the Dursleys waiting for him when he got there. It was goodbye to Hogwarts and his friends and back to the life living as his adopted families third, fourth or fifth priority. It was a journey that was never quite long enough, because he never wanted it to end.

Yet his had been, quite possibly, the longest journey of his entire life.

By the time the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he was physically and mentally drained. It had been twos hours straight of trying to calm Daphne down. Every time she was talked into believing she was doing the right thing, it'd be a matter of minutes before she panicked, tried to leave and the whole cycle started again. He'd even had to physically wrestle her back into her seat a handful of times. His joy at her decision was wearing thin and it was taking a lot for him to remain positive, for her sake. He counted his blessings as the train finally pulled up to the platform.

They waited until the majority of students had vacated the corridor before attempting to make their move.

"Walk at least ten paces ahead of me. Don't look back!"

Harry rolled his eyes. He would do what she asked, since this was on her terms, but his enthusiasm had emptied entirely.

He stepped off the train to find the platform near abandoned, with barely a few stragglers remaining. He _had _been hoping to see the Weasley's off before departing for Grimmauld Place; he didn't blame them for not waiting for him. Pulling his trunk behind him, he made his way down the platform and to the entrance to the muggle world.

Crossing through the hidden portal, he found it was a little more crowded on the other side, but it still felt strange doing this routine on his own.

He carried on his way, crossed through the barriers at the end of the platforms and out into the open of the train station. He stopped on the spot and did a look around, hoping to spot her following behind him, but wasn't able to glance her through the gathering crowd. He lingered in this area and hoped she hadn't lost him. They really didn't have any way of communication and he didn't exactly trust her on her own in a muggle train station… Was it bad of him for thinking like that?

Harry moved on towards the station's exit. He couldn't spot her inside and he'd stood still long enough for her to catch him up. With any luck, if she had gotten lost then she'd go outside to look for him.

The sky had grown dark and the wind had come in force, but it was to his delight he found it started snowing.

He walked a few paces away from the station and his feet crunched the fresh blanket of snow as he circled the taxi ring. He glanced around again. Still no Daphne in sight. Now he was beginning to worry. He really didn't see how they could have gotten separated so easily, especially when the station was as empty as it were.

He was no longer subtly looking for her, either. Harry placed his briefcase down beside him and brought his hands up to his eyes, squinting to make out the figures around him in the darkness. It only took a few seconds for the winter air to soak through his clothes and start making him shivering. He didn't have long out here before he'd have to go back the way he came. Really, where was she?

Just as he was beginning to debate turning around and heading back inside to look for her, he squinted again and at that moment made out a tiny blonde head coming his way out of the station.

"DAPHNE, COME ON!" he shouted to her.

The figure suddenly sped up and when it drew closer, staring daggers at him.

_"Shut up!"_

"Did you get lost?"

"No! I was being inconspicuous!"

He waved her off, tutting. Again, she was uncomfortable and he was determined not to snap at her. Luckily, a black taxi caught his gesture and pulled up beside them. Daphne moved back in alarm, he leaned to the window.

"Lincoln's Inn Fields, that alright mate?"

The cab driver gave him an a-okay sign and he moved them to the back.

He opened the door for Daphne, but she didn't budge, just continued glaring at the taxi suspiciously. It took a second for the dots to connect in his head; she had probably never been in a car couldn't fight it. A smile escaped onto his face at the image of the grumpy short lady in the snow. Videos of puppies growling came to mind.

"You okay with this?"

"I am… fine," she answered in the most un-fine way possible.

Harry nodded at her, still smiling.

"Just climb in. I'll show you how to put the seatbelt on."

Slowly and apprehensively, she climbed inside. She tired maintaining as much dignity as she could, which wasn't a lot as she clambered gracelessly through the car's door and across its seats. Harry picked up both their luggage and threw them to the floor inside, then joined her.

"It's called a taxi," he said under his breath.

She scrunched up her nose like he'd just called her something foul.

"I know what a vehicle is!" she spat back.

At that moment the engine started and a jolt racketed through the car. Her hand shot to his knee, where her nails embedded through his pants and into his flesh. He gave a calm and reassuring smile to her. Inside he wanted to cry.

The car moved forward and Daphne fell back in her seat, her grip still tight on his knee.

"First time?"

She nodded, breathlessly.

"In a while, yes. And I don't exactly have a… good history, with muggle cities."

He didn't catch her cryptic meaning, but pushed it from his head as the car began its journey. He didn't know how long this ride would take to his godfathers place, as he'd never actually travelled there by car before, but could tell by the rush hour it was going to be a longer one than normal.

It took awhile before Daphne settled down by his side. When she did eventually relax her shoulders and lean back against him, it was in silence. Her face was glued to the window; he didn't know whether she was in awe at the view of London or if she just felt uncomfortable in the taxi drivers presence. The grip remaining on his leg gave him a clue to the answer.

"You okay?" he whispered to her.

She nodded, still not looking at him.

"Those lights… they are gorgeous," she said, almost sounding like she was in disbelief.

Another warm feeling spread through his upper body. It hadn't occurred to him how spectacular sight of a major city covered in fairy lights would appear to someone from the wizarding world. He brought his hand down on top of hers. The rest of their journey passed in silence, he zoned out for most of it, joining Daphne in watching the Christmas lights pass them by.

It was a good half an hour before he started recognising locations through the windows. He began to fish for his wallet and Daphne was brought of her trance, alarmed by his movements. As they exited the taxi, Harry thanked the man and handed his due money, plus a small tip.

Stepping out into the snowy streets, Daphne didn't seem to notice the cold as her wandering eyes took to examining their location deeply. No sooner had they exited the car had Grimmauld Place emerged from nowhere, inflating in the centre of the Muggle apartment block like it were a balloon trapped between the cracks. He looked expectantly at her, hoping to see the same wonder on her face that he'd had seeing it for the first time, but found her still too busy looking sparing at their surrounding darkness.

He was still half on half is she was terrified of London or fascinated by it, and thought best not to ask.

He walked up the snowy steps and took out his wand, tapping against the door in the same manner he'd seen Mad-Eye Moody do a year previously. Many loud and metallic clicks sounded from the other side, which brought Daphne's attention back.

"You'll like Sirius, honestly, he's a proper laugh. He'll talk you through everything, he'll make sure you don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. You can trust him with your life."

As she sighed, a long plume of hot fog left her mouth.

"I do not place my trust in strangers... I do however, trust you, so I'll take your judgement on him into consideration."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. Again.

"You ready for this?"

Daphne shook her head, breathing so loudly now that he could hear it over the nearby traffic..

"I think I am going to be sick."

"Is that a yes, or?"

She grimaced at him.

"Just open the door. Get this over with."

Turning the knob, the door creaked open and he stepped inside. He was instantly consumed by darkness and the smell of damp. Daphne filled in behind him, looking around the place in grotesque curiosity..

He suddenly felt something very hot trickling down his back. Something shifted in the darkness ahead of them before either could say a word, a shining blast came hurtling their way. It ran in slow motion, giving Harry only enough time to brace for impact.

As it hit, it blinded him instantly, but didn't fully topple him to the floor. He blinked quickly, trying to regain his sense as stars dotted in and out of his vision and he swung blindly at whatever was ahead of him. He heard a noise from Daphne, not a scream, but a kind of barbaric growl.

He fought for his ability to see, when things had finally settled enough he found himself forced head-first against the wallpaper.

"WHAT CREATURE SAT IN THE CORNER THE FIRST TIME HARRY POTTER VISITED MY OFFICE AT HOGWARTS?!"

His vision took a second to focus, then he realised it was Lupin, of all people, that had him pinned and was shouting at him. Adrenaline surged through his system suddenly. Harry scrambled to grab his hands and drag them from his throat.

"ARE YOU MAD-"

"WHAT CREATURE!?"

Another push of force from Lupin winded him. He abandoned trying to fight for an escape.

"Ah... er… GRINDLYOW!"

Lupin's eyes narrowed and after a second, he released him. He slumped to the floor entirely and his back hit the wall opposite. As he clambered to regain his feet, he felt the focus in the room switch. He looked back to see Tonks holding Daphne against the door in a painful-looking headlock.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU FI-"

She didn't have time to finish the sentence, not before Tonks tore back her sleeve and dramatically revealed her Dark Mark to the entire scene.

Dust swirled slowly around Harry.

He knew what that burning feeling had been. He should have thought ahead. He was an idiot. Grimmauld Place had protection wards over it, which _obviously _would have been triggered by bringing a Death Eater, unannounced, through its doors.

"TONKS! LET HER GO!" he broke the stunned silence.

She didn't budge. From her position, still straining to hold Daphne down, Tonks shouted back their way.

"IS HE UNDER THE IMPERIUS CURSE?"

"It'd have worn off the second he came through!"

It wasn't Lupin that spoke, Harry turned and instead saw Sirius barrelling towards them through the living room.

"Sirius! Tell them!" Harry yelled. "_Tell them_ we came in together! Tell them she wants asylum!"

The older man barged his way through Lupin and he and barked harshly down the corridor.

"Let her go, Nymphadora!"

"You're having a laugh, aren't you?!"

"I think we should allow her to speak for _herself_!"

Tonks stared at him unpleasantly for a moment before eventually conceding. When she did allow Daphne free, she seemed to make sure it was in the most undignified way she could manage. Daphne slipped awkwardly out of her grasp and leaked miserably onto the floor. Sirius crossed the hallway in a few quick strides and placed is arm on the wall, separating the two women.

Daphne got up, panting and watching Tonks deliberately over his shoulder.

"Well, Miss Greengrass?"

Daphne looked ready to kill. Harry was half-and-half on whether to shove himself between her and Sirius.

"First... _she…" she_ stuck a harsh finger at Tonks, who looked ready to dive-bomb her again at any moment, "... isn't allowed to touch me. Second... Harry is telling the truth. I've come to seek asylum from my father and the Dark Lord."

"She's a Death Eater!" Tonks shouted.

"Tonks, please!" Sirius snapped at her, before turning back to Daphne with a gentler voice, "Are you telling us the truth, Miss Greengrass?"

She straightened up on the spot.

"Yes, I am."

Sirius nodded.

"Would you still be saying that if we put you under the effects of veritaserum? Would you submit to such willingly?"

"I would."

Sirius looked back their way and nodded to Lupin. From the corner of his vision, Harry saw Lupin put his wand away. Tonks, however, fumed harder.

"That can't be it!" she shouted again.

Sirius, still calm, raised a hand between them.

"Death Eater or not, she saved my life and as did Harry, once. I owe it to them both to hear her out."

Tonk's hair flashed a harsh red, which made Daphne do a double take in surprise.

"There is a Death Eater inside our highly _classified _secret base and you two are just stood around talking about it! She could have You-Know-Who leading an army here right this minute!"

Harry jumped in while he could.

"No, I invited her! I had to convince her to come!"

"You don't know what you're saying, Harry!" Tonks addressed him properly for the first time, then turned back to Lupin and Sirius. "How can the two of you be so blind?"

"SHUT IT, PAIR OF YOU!" bellowed Sirius, silencing the corridor.

Daphne moved towards Harry suddenly. She walked with such determination and aggression he almost thought she was coming at him for a second. She moved behind him, sealing herself off from the others in the cramped corridor, as though he would actually stand a chance if it came to a duel between the four of them. Even while shying behind him for protection, she someone made him feel like it was his fault he wasn't already guarding her.

Tonks glared at her over his shoulder. Sirius clapped his hands loudly together.

"Kreacher, pop the kettle on! We're not going to get any of this resolved by standing about and arguing over it. If the lass says she's willing to be subjected to veritaserum, then that should be the only thing we're doing right now."

Lupin moved forward to interject.

"If I might - we do encounter a minor problem in that, Sirius. Veritaserum stock is still recovering from Umbridge's mass recall," he shook his head. "We could request Severus for some, I'm sure he'd only be too happy to help, but Merlin knows how long that would take."

"_Not_ Professor Snape," Daphne cut in.

Lupin frowned and craned his head around Harry to address her.

"And why is that, my dear?"

"Told you she's not what she seems..." Tonks answered before she had the chance.

Daphne sent another scowl her way before answering.

"He's a Death Eater and cannot be trusted. "

Lupin stifled a laugh.

"My dear, Dumbledore trusts Snape. Therefore, _everyone _in this house trusts Snape."

Harry suddenly found it his natural place to interject again.

"But Snape is helping Malfoy. They are both up to something. I overheard them talking about it."

Lupin paused and blinked at him for a moment. He looked troubled with what Harry had said, but for some reason or another, decided not to follow him up on it.

Sirius moved his hand to Lupin's side, pulling the ex-professor's attention.

"What do you suggest, Moony?"

Lupin shook his head. A troubled sigh left his lips.

"It is… difficult. A number of solutions come to mind, but not many of which one could consider ethical. A precaution to some could appear cruel and unnecessary to others. We could, say… confine her to a room and place magical wards over it, just until we can be sure-"

"Lupin, don't be-"

Harry interrupted again, but to his surprise it was Daphne that pulled him back.

"No, that is fine."

She moved to meet Lupin and Sirius, which made Tonks take a sudden step forward to them.

"That is acceptable. You would be foolish to trust me from my word alone. I respect your wishes and I will gladly be your captive until such a time that you can prove my sincerity."

Harry stared at her, while Sirius just clapped his hands together again.

"The girl has spoken! Let's get to it then!"

Tonks growled.

"You can't be serious!"

"That is _literally _my name."

* * *

Hours later in Grimmauld Place, Harry and Daphne sat miserably opposite one another in a kitchen, and such had been the scene for the last hour. He sat at the head of the table, closest to the door, while she sat on the side opposite, closest to the sink. They hadn't said anything between them in a while.

The kitchen was cold and it was growing colder. The candle that lit the room had since gone out and neither of them had the drive to do anything about it. They were still bundled up in their winter clothes, having not had the chance to settle down properly, and now a rising annoyed was beginning to fill both of them.

The important conversation between the adults was happening in the other room. Whatever Christmas cheer or joy at one another's presence the two _had _been feeling was long since worn off and a depressing silence leaked throughout the scene. Their futures were being decided for them in a separate room, a fact of which the two had become aware of far too late.

"I'm sick of this!" Daphne erupted suddenly, startling Harry.

There was a screeching noise as she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet, then the click-clacking of her shoes as she crossed the room at speed.

"I refuse to sit around while my fate is decided for me by strangers! I have _just _left that party and I'm in no rush to hurry back to it!"

She brought out her wand and muttered a spell Harry had never heard before, then placed her wand against the door that held Sirius, Lupin and Tonks behind it. For a moment a strange fizzing sound filling the room, then voices began to emerge from the static.

"_He's a teenage lad, Sirius, of course he's going to believe anything some blonde bimbo says to him!"_

That was Tonks' voice - she was yelling.

"_You sound jealous, Tonks? You know you can just change your face whenever you like, right? You don't need to always shit all over pretty people."_

Sirius was talking now, Harry would recognise his voice anywhere.

"_I'm saying that I know the lure pretty girls have, and what teenage lads think with! Don't you think it all just works out a bit too perfectly that the gorgeous, upper-class, rich daughter of a Death Eater would be interested in Harry?"_

The adults must have placed a silencing charm over the room, which Daphne had just bypassed. Harry didn't know which spell she had just used. Surely he'd have remembered one as useful as that if they'd been taught it in lesson?

He'd ask her about it at a more relevant time. He pushed his chair back to give him a better ear of the door.

"_What's wrong with Harry? He's a good looking lad for his age!" _he defended. "_Tonks, will you sit down!? Merlin's Beard stop getting so worked up!"_

"_Can you blame me?! You two are willing to risk everything we've worked towards just 'cause some lil' blondie with big tits has shown up!"_

His eyes snapped over to Daphne, waiting on a reaction. The girl remained stone faced, however, as though she simply hadn't heard the comment. God, how he had missed that. She kept her wand against the door.

Lupin gave a troubled noise.

"_Please do not box me and Sirius in together, Tonks,"_ he interceded in a calmer voice, marking him from the others. "_I agree we need to be very careful around Miss Greengrass. How we go about it should be the issue."_

"_We go about it by hexing her and calling Dumbledore!"_

"_Oh, for the love of…"_

There was some stomping noises moving away from them which Harry guess was Sirius venting his frustration. He sounded to be getting just as worked up as Tonks was.

_"Look, it's good you're supportive, Padfoot, but realistically... Well, we all have somebody we know quite well that's in Slytherin. At the risk of boxing them all in together, deception seems to come more naturally to them than others."_

"_Mum was always good at getting us to do what she wanted... Dad never had that, being a Hufflepuff and all."_

"_Now, obviously I'm not saying something as trivial as her schoolhouse automatically declares her a bad person, but a relationship between the two of them would definitely be a strategic advantage to the Dark Lord. It is worth keeping our guard up to the possibility! And even if she is genuine in her feelings, it doesn't change the fact that advantage remains."_

"_No, that's the exact story her dad fed to Voldemort, according to Snape! He wanted to have her tortured after it got out she helped the Order at the Department of Mysteries, but they were able to turn it around and get Malfoy held responsible for it. Then he collaborated their story and got Malfoy chucked under the bus, now Benny is second in command. They wouldn't go through that many hoops unless they were deliberately trying to cover something up! Daphne fought against her father to be with Harry! Snape even said she was covered in bruises at the end of last year."_

"_Oh give over, Snape protects his own! If she's right about one thing, it's that he can't be trusted in the Order."_

"_Tonks… please… can we not have infighting between our own?"_

"_So, what? Snape says Benedict lied to Voldemort's face? And he got away with it? I don't believe a word of it, nobody can lie to him!"_

"_If it's to protect his daughter... And make himself look good, I wouldn't underestimate that man. If their relationship was really a ruse on her part, and Snape's word can be trusted - which it can - then he wouldn't have gone through all that. It's too many pieces that just don't fit together if she truly is working against Harry."_

"_I still don't like it. __We cannot trust anybody who has the Dark Mark! I don't care if her little schoolgirl puppy-dog eyes works on you both, I'm not falling for it! She is dangerous, we need to wipe her memory and call Dumbledore!"_

"_I trust Harry's judgem-"_

"_What happens when we call Dumbledore, Tonks? You know he'll take our side and want to talk things through with her. And even then, has it occurred to you maybe bringing Dumbledore in is exactly what she wants?"_

"_Oh not you too, Moony!" _

"_I'm just being precautious, Sirius! If the Death Eaters have infiltrated the Order, their first line of action would be finding a way to take down Dumbledore. That prospect should override everything. Miss Greengrass needs to be treated as a worst-case scenario until a time her innocence can be proven." _

"_Exactly! So let's get rid of her!"_

"_Tonks!" _

"_If we really had a captive Death Eater right here in our kitchen, your first line of action would be to kick her out?" _

For the first time, there was silence. Tonks had stopped shouting and Sirius' movements couldn't be heard either.

Harry and Daphne glanced at one another for a second. Apparently the uncomfortable position she was in had gotten to her, so she moved to place her wand on the floor and retake her seat, while still listening in on the conversation.

"_Right then… now that we can talk without shouting… let's figure out what we're going to do about her. Her intentions will become clear as soon as Severus brings us what we need. Until then we need to prepare for all clauses."_

Lupin was talking quietly, making them both crane to hear him. From what Harry had seen, his ex-professor was good at keeping a level-head during intense moments. In the Marauders he had been the level-headed one. The Hermione, if you would.

"_If what she says is true and she is genuinely here to seek asylum, we need to be accommodating. This could be the first sign that the seeds of doubt are being spread among Voldemort's followers. If we can show a deserter can come to us and receive protection and a better life, it could go a long way to convincing any others that also have doubts. At the same time… her treachery would make her a target. We can't afford for her to go on the run because she could be a valuable asset. Hogwarts would be safe, but she'd need a protected place when terms over. Move her in here or the Burrow. Somewhere with layers of wards. Maybe even the shack Bill and Fluer found, it'd be good for her to keep a low profile." _

"_And what if she is dangerous? What then, Remus?" _

"_Honestly... I don't think much changes. If she is here as some kind of deliberate ruse, wherever she's after Dumbledore or just trying to flush us out, I think it's very obvious we can't allow her to leave. Regardless of her alliances, the information she holds will be valuable. It's just a case of making her reveal it. One of the old rooms, perhaps your brothers, could be converted into a kind of holding-cell for her." _

"_Is there not somewhere more secure we could hold her? Hogwarts, maybe?" _

Tonks was actually discussing things now, Harry noticed, not just arguing. That was good.

"_I doubt Dumbledore would take too kindly to us trying to lock up his students."_

Sirius gave his recognisable cackle.

"_Merlin's Beard, you bullied Flich so much you're starting to sound like him!"_

Laughter sounded in the room; Harry even caught himself smiling.

"_Either way, I think we can all agree that keeping her here as long as we can should be the way forward. Severus should be able to get us what we need by tomorrow, until then it's a waiting game. We should all be on our toes around her. We also should not leave her alone around Harry too much."_

"_Way to cockblock my godson." _

"_If she has manipulated her way into his heart, he could become just as big of a problem as her. The last thing we need is Harry getting turned against us. We all need to be as supportive as we can moving forward, but also keeping our guard up."_

"_She's not like that, Mooney. He's spoken to me about her, it's genuine with them. I trust Harry's judgement in her."_

"_You don't have to, but we'll all know soon enough anyway."_

"_Well, I'm happy with her story."_

"_You would be!"_

"_I think we've had enough childish bickering for one night, don't you two? Are we ready to go back in now?"_

"_Until Snape can come with the veritaserum… then yeah, I guess we're doing all we can. But I'm not speaking to her..." _

"_We're sorted, then. We've left them waiting long enough, they're probably freezing in there. Happy faces when we go back in, please." _

Harry shifted his chair from the door suddenly and retook his position at the table.

A second later the door opened and Lupin, Tonks and Sirius spewed out, all looking more stressed than they had when they'd gone in. The three of them paused suddenly, and it took Harry a second to follow their line of sight.

Daphne was asleep with her head down on the table.

Harry's heart did a somersault.

"Well, there you have it!" Sirius cried. "We can't move her now!"

Tonks scrunched up her nose.

"We can just wake her up?"

He gasped dramatically.

"And disturb a growing, hormonal teenage girls beauty sleep? I won't hear a word of it! Mooney, fetch her a blanket won't you?"


	20. Carol of the Bells

Daphne awoke with a flinch. Merlin's Beard, she didn't even remember closing her eyes.

She looked for Harry, expecting to see him sat across from her, but found the room empty. And… a blanket over her shoulders? How long had she been asleep?

The blanket covering her was a thick and itchy one, but when she lifted off herself up she soon found herself missing it. A cold had leaked into the kitchen that was the kind you felt deep in your bones. She stretched her back out, arching it across the chair and making her spine crack and pop a few times. That was the second worst sleep she'd had in her life, but by far one of the deepest. It felt like she'd only zoned out for a split second and was now right back there, mid-conversation, anxiety and all. Her stress levels may have been through the roof recently, but she was never the type to doze off by accident. Much less while so significantly out of her comfort zone.

But the room was startlingly still now. It was dark outside, which meant it must have been early or late - being winter didn't give her any indication either way. She could do with Harry right now, as she was in no rush to see Professor Lupin again or... Tonks? Was her name? And while Sirius seemed harmless but, his past preceded him in her eyes.

Then, a sweet smell began to fill her nose. She looked to her right and saw a steaming cup of tea stood beside her. It was that close she'd almost knocked it off when removing the blanket.

So someone else was still up, then?

"Lady Greengrass is awake!"

Daphne flinched again, this time realising what it had been that woke her up. On second inspection, she saw an elderly house elf waddling back into the room.

"I do hope she enjoys the morning cup of tea that Kreacher has prepared for her!"

Harry did mention briefly that his godfather had a house elf, now that she thought back on it. She brought the cup up to her lips and was pleased to find it still had some warmth, and quickly gulped down a few swigs of it.

"It is an honour for the House of Black to play host to a fellow member of the Sacred-Twenty Eight! Master Black allows all sorts through it's door, it is such a nice change to have a guest of certified quality!"

She smiled into her cup.

It wasn't often these days she was recognised with the respect she deserved, and this house was certainly the last place she expected to encounter it.

"Kreacher…" she repeated, "that's your name?"

The house elf nodded eagerly.

"Yes, m'lady! Could I get you anything else?"

Daphne chewed the inside of her lip for a moment, considering the opportunity before her.

"You could tell me about Master Black, please."

Kreacher nodded again, this time waddling away from her as he resumed his kitchen duties.

"Of course, well Kreacher is devoted to all members of the House of Black! Including, to his disdain… " he voice turned usually sour as he slowed down, "... Master Sirius. His _rebellious _and traitorous nature is responsibility for a stain on the Black family name."

She observed the house elf curiously. That was quite unlike the way she'd ever heard one of them talk about their owners.

"The murders?" she asked.

Kreacher shook its head.

"No… no… Master Sirius was innocent of that crime, but guilty of many others."

She hadn't heard the specifics of Sirius's recent trail, but she had heard enough to understand he had been exacerbated of all previously convicted crimes. Still, she had grown up on stories of the infamous killer, Sirius Black, it was difficult to see him as anything other than that.

"Others?" she repeated his word.

A nasty scowl overtook the house elf's face.

"Blood _treachery_... Fraternising with Muggles and _mudbloods_... Long has passed since the glory days of the once noble House of Black... Long since we were on par with the likes of Greengrass and Malfoy."

The way it spoke was with quite an old fashioned soul, which was contrary to the way Harry spoke and believed. Was this really his house elf? She struggled to imagine the two ever getting along together. A moment more of consideration passed before she decided to follow that up.

"What _do _you know of the Greengrass family, Kreacher?"

It's mood suddenly did a one-eighty and the house elf looked wide-eyed and energetic at her again.

"Oh! It is Kreacher's first-cousin-twice-removed, that serves them! Kreacher has long been envious of her! A family that holds such a reputation in the magical community is a rare sight indeed these days! Lord Greengrass' favour is often sort after by other Houses!"

Daphne smiled at him, but it was anything but well-intended. It was somewhat nice to hear an opinion from someone who inhabited the same world as her, but didn't actually mean her any harm.

It brought with it a nostalgic of days gone by back, back before she decided to ruin her life.

"That's still what they think of us, then?" she asked weakly.

The elf looked quizzically back at her.

"Kreacher begs your pardon, m'lady?"

Daphne took another swig from her cup of tea, taking time to reminisce the memory.

"There's barely any of us left now. Dad always wanted a son to continue his legacy... He _needed _a son. But, he never got one and now when Astoria and I get married off and he passes away, the House of Greengrass will die with him. We're the last of our kind as well. He blames himself for it… and I suspect that I do too, you know?"

A solemn moment lingered in the air between them.

"But still, it's nice to know the cracks aren't showing yet. He shall be most pleased."

When she finally looked back at the house elf, the expression it carried was a conflicted one, somewhere between sympathetic and confused. Whatever the feeling, it was obvious Kreacher wasn't happy with her statement.

She smiled back at him.

"This tea is lovely, Kreacher. I shall make sure to mention to your hospitality to your masters."

That snapped him from his trance. Kreacher nodded graciously to her and took back to organising the kitchen around them.

"Kreacher lives to serve The Noble and Most Ancient, House of Black..."

"Quite. Tell me, is Master Potter awake?"

"I believe he has begun to stir, m'lady! Shall Kreacher fetch him for you?"

So it was morning, then. Truly, how had she allowed her guard down like that?

"If you would, please."

"Right away, m'lady!"

The house elf moved quickly towards the door, but she called out to him one last time.

"Also, Kreacher?"

He looked back at her.

"M'lady?"

"Nobody is to know I'm here. You shan't mention my presence to anyone. Winky, especially."

Thankfully, the house elf smiled again and then gave her a makeshift salute.

"Understood, M'lady!"

She watched as he resumed his course and quickly scurried from the kitchen.

Daphne smiled to herself. What a funny little creature he was.

Old fashioned mindsets like his were on the decline these days. Probably for the best, true, but it couldn't be ignored the nostalgia it brought her. High-class dinner parties arranged by her father, back when they still used to receive visitors, and day-trips out to visit the Ministry. Kreacher seemed older than Winky was by a few centuries, but he was far more energetic than any elf she had met before. He almost reminded her of her grandfather… if relating a nobleman to a house elf wasn't extremely insulting.

She moved to take another swig of her brew, but suddenly, there was a thumping sound.

Heavy footsteps. Rushing in her direction.

A cold wave washed over her and familiar fear began to rise in her. It sounded way too big and heavy to be a house elf. Someone was coming for her.

Her hand instinctively moved to the sleeve where she kept her wand.

"Hey - good morning!" Harry announced loudly as he entered the room.

She breathed out.

"Sorry about leaving you down here! Sirius didn't want us to move you - I think he was saying that mostly for Lupin and Tonks' benefit since they're still a bit unsure of you - they're still upstairs actually - I'm sure once you get to talk to them prope-"

She struck a hand sharply through the air.

"Please do be quiet, I've just woke up."

His mind seemed to catch up with his mouth and he fell quiet, but still smiling at her brightly.

"I'm… _really _sorry about last night," he started again, slower. "It was completely on me, I should have thought ahead... It never occurred to me your mark would set off the wards."

She soon found that she was smiling thinly back at him.

"Look… so long as they don't tell anybody I'm here, then... I don't care."

To casually dismiss being held in a headlock and shamed in front of a room of people wasn't in her nature, but truth be told, his enthusiasm never failed to cheer her up.

Her face had fully healed over and, although maybe it was just the good cup of tea sitting in her stomach, Daphne truly felt the most stable she had done in months.

Right now it was just her and Harry, the way she liked it. The way it was meant to be. This was the grounds she needed to be on, and it was on these grounds that she would build her comeback on. The two of them spending holidays together was what she fantasied about last Christmas, but now that fantasy was her reality. Just like when they first started seeing each other, the world around them didn't matter anymore. What happened to get her here didn't matter, just that she _was _here.

Harry seemed to notice her sudden jubilant expression. Her eyes followed him as he moved around the kitchen table to the opposite side.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked.

"What do you have?"

He clicked open a kitchen cabinet and took a look inside.

"Some toast… spaghetti hoops? Tomato soup?"

Daphne laughed at him.

"Is that it?"

Then she caught on to how rude that wording was and made to amend herself.

"Ah, sorry…" she raised her hand, awkwardly, "I'm just used to… My house is a bit bigger than this. Toast would be fine, thank you."

Harry chuckled at her comment and returned behind the cupboard door, but she couldn't shake the feeling he was more bothered by her words than he'd let on. She deflated sightly in her seat, cursing herself. Of course she would find some way to throw a spanner into the works.

"We're... out of bread."

A giggle erupted from her throat before she had a chance to stop it. She slapped a hand over her mouth and turned to look at him. Apology written across her face, she opened her mouth, fully ready apologise and beg him for forgiveness.

"I didn't mean to - I just - !"

To her surprise, he was staring back at her with the kind of googly eyes she'd seen Astoria wear around the Quidditch team.

"You are _so _cute."

Her stomach plummeted.

She turned away from him instantly. A hot fuzz rushed to her cheeks.

He'd spoken so forcibly, like he was stating a solid and hard fact. An aurora of dizziness swirled around her and it took a few moments of cooling off before she was able to face him again. That smile only lasted a second longer, before she forced it to drain from her face.

She breathed calmly.

"Thank you, Harry."

He was now fiddling with something, a kind of large muggle-looking box. It made a fizzing noise for a second before it settled into something more comprehensible. Gentle rock music now filled the room, doing well to break apart the heavy stillness.

"There's a corner shop at the end of the road, I can nip out and be dead quick?"

"Would it not be easier to just send Kreacher to go? So you won't have to brave the weather?"

Harry gave a loud, tired sigh.

"Oh, christ… I didn't know you'd met him. I'm sorry for whatever he's said, he's a little prick. I'll get Sirius to have a word."

She frowned at him quite suddenly.

"He was quite lovely, actually. Prepared me this cup of tea. He said it was an _honour _to have me in the household, even."

He gave a slow and unpleasant laugh, chewing his bottom lip.

"_That jammy bastard…"_

He held that expression a minute longer before jumping to action.

"I'll only be two seconds, though. Let me just grab a coat."

She sucked in an undecided breath.

The idea of being alone in this house with the people she'd met last night didn't sit too well with her, even if it were just for a few moments. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, it was more… she wanted… she _didn't _want…

Okay, no. She just didn't like them.

Nor did she have any reason to, either, with the way they treated her.

"Potter…" she groaned aloud before falling quiet.

She was unable to make her case any further without feeling like a nuisance, so instead just took to looking meekly at him.

He caught the dip in her tone and arched his eyebrow.

"What, don't you want to be left on your own?"

She scoffed loudly at him.

"Don't be absurd!"

She didn't want to be left alone with _those _people, big difference, but he could go to Tartarus if he thought he was going to hear her admit that.

He put his hands up defensively.

"Right, sorry! So you _are _okay staying while I nip out dead quick, then?"

She let out a low breath, wincing as she struggled.

"I mean... I _could _come with you. But, only if you'd like me to…?"

When he didn't answer immediately, she turned to him.

He was grinning back at her. Daphne's face twisted and molded like she'd just smelled something foul.

Well, he was certainly feeling brave today.

"What's that look on your face?"

She worded it like a threat, but his smile didn't falter.

"Nothing! I'm gonna grab my jacket, you need one?"

Her face remained stone and unchanged. With her answer clear, he nodded cheerfully.

"I'll get you one."

His was quick to exit the room, but not without her hearing him laugh to himself.

She still couldn't figure out if she was head-over-heels for him or if he wound her up more than Tracey did. In all likelihood, it was probably a mixture of both.

She stood up and cracked her back, resulting in a series of satisfying pops, then finally took her jacket off from yesterday and draped it across her chair. Properly looking around her surroundings for the first time, she wasn't too pleased with what she saw. Not messy, per say. There were no dishes that need doing or dirty washing littered about, but the years had plainly not been kind to the house. Black mold sparsely covered the ceiling and more than a few cracks had formed in the window that looked out to the garden. Even the Christmas decorations in the room were minimal, she had to strain to see them.

She wasn't trying to be rude, but it definitely wasn't the kind of place she imagined Harry living.

She made her way over to her kitchen window and tugged open the curtains. It wasn't as dark out as she had thought, they were just buried deep into a suburban neighbourhood. She could just about make out a white sky above the roofs of neighbouring houses. She looked down at the large plastic box positioned under her window. Only when she got closer did she recognise it as a stereo. It was quite different to the one's she'd seen in muggle studies - bigger for starters, and with none of the usual dials on the front of it. Instead it had illuminated display words and numbers - did all muggles have an affinity for making their things glow?

Behind her, she felt Harry reenter the room.

"What song is this?" she asked him.

"We Will Rock You. It's by Queen."

"The _Queen _sang this?"

She turned to him, where he was staring quizzically back at her. Her looked as though he'd just heard a joke he didn't understand.

"Queen's the name of a band… Freddie Mercury sang it."

"Ah…"

She was an idiot.

Harry laughed and fortunately for him, she was able to see the humorous side of it.

The two shared a chuckle at her expense, but as he handed her an old leather coat she felt that happiness drain out of her. It took a second of eye contact between them before she agreed to put it on. It was probably for the best that she didn't look like herself while staying here, but that compromise was a very long way away from an ugly leather jacket that looked five times too big for her.

It was a pity, really, she had a gorgeous Kneazle-fur jacket at hers that she loved the way she looked in. It was thin on the waist and arms but chunky on the collars and cuffs, where the fur was. It'd go a long way to impress Harry, since she really lived up to the name Ice Queen while wearing it.

Begrudgingly, she wrestled her way into the jacket. When she put her arms down her hands disappeared entirely into the sleeves. Again, she digressed.

"Am I going to be okay to leave the wards?"

It took a second for him to answer, she presumed he was considering the question himself.

"You _should _be… They've not put any news ones on, so I can't imagine why you wouldn't be, anyway. Might have to watch out coming back inside, though."

They ventured into the same corridor from last night and over to the main door. Again, Harry took the lead and opened it, as he pulled it open a barrage of whiteness overtook her vision. He lead the way out and she followed closely by his side. Fortunately, the big jacket did actually do its job at keeping the cold out. Together they reached the end of the garden path and Harry allowed them out onto the street. She trailed behind, hands behind her back as she was content to watch the world around them.

Despite the snowy blanket that covered the city, the sun above London shone brightly in the sky. The street was alive with activity around them: a group of muggle children dragging sledges behind them, vehicles carefully moving along the gritted roads and tightly wrapped couples walking arm-in-arm down the pavement. It was a serene scene, almost a-kin to something seen on the front of a Christmas card.

A smile progressively found its way onto her face. Through everything that had been going on lately, she'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy Christmas.

"This is a muggle neighbourhood?"

Harry nodded his head, moving his hands to his pockets. At this revelation, she took the cheeky opportunity to interlock her arm with his, just like they used to do. It wouldn't do much to reinforce the idea they were no longer together, but it was Christmas and she was feeling more than a little adventurous. He seized up instantly at the contact - she didn't know why, as they'd done this exact position countless times before - but thought it was cute all the same.

Now this.

This was the life she had earned for herself.

* * *

Little over an hour later, when the door to Grimmauld Place closed again, it was met instantly by a stampede of footprints.

"False alarm…" Tonks scowled down the corridor at them, "...they're back."

Harry smiled sheepishly at her. He brought the bread up in front of them as a peace offering, but she wasn't impressed. She sulked her way back to the living room, where her spot was replaced a moment later by a dishevelled-looking Lupin.

"Harry, I'm trying _really _hard to make Tonks on board with this. I could certainly use a little help, please. Don't go wandering off like that."

Lupin was being polite, but even he could tell he was annoyed. Again, he was unable to offer anything more than a guilt-ridden smile. He and Daphne _might _have taken a little bit longer than necessary to find the corner shop and get the bread, if he was being perfectly honest with himself.

"We thought you guys were asleep, sorry."

Lupin shook his head, exhaling.

"Well… a note would have gone a long way, Harry…"

He then looked like he noticed Daphne for the first time and promptly changed his attitude, smiling politely at her.

"And how do you do, Miss Greengrass? I'm sorry our reintroduction was not on the best of terms last night."

Daphne strode forward, her head high.

"I'm grateful for the accommodation you all have provided me with, Professor Lupin."

Lupin smiled impressively her, giving a small laugh.

"Now, now… I haven't been a Professor for a long time. Come on in, Sirius is preparing some breakfast."

After almost two years of knowing her, it still did Harry's head-in how she was able to jump so seamlessly from the Daphne he knew to the Ice Queen persona others knew her as. Lupin lead the way and after wrestling back out of their winter coats, they followed suit behind him. As they moved through the corridors, Daphne closed in on his side.

"You told me there was nothing in for breakfast?"

Turns out he was about to be eating his words, and a lot more than that.

As they re-entered the kitchen they'd been in not an hour ago, but it was suddenly full to the brim with a Hogwarts Feast-level breakfast platter. Mountains of pancakes, racks of toast and freshly grilled fry-up spread across the table. She moved to take her seat, he remained glued to the spot.

"I have... no idea... where this stuff came from."

The door behind him reopened and Tonks shuffled in. Harry made action to let onto her, but she moved immediately past and took to finding herself a seat at the table. A seat directly opposite side of Daphne, he observed.

Kreacher waddled his way into the room behind her, an unusual chipper skip in his step.

"Lady Greengrass deserves nothing but the best! Kreacher has prepared for her a breakfast fit for a Queen!"

He eyeballed the house elf.

"It smells wonderful, Kreacher, thank you," Daphne answered for him.

"_Little bastard never makes me this much..." _

Contrary to her words, Harry noticed, Tonks was having no problem in helping herself to the food on the table.

Alarm bells were going off in his head. Somehow her sitting opposite Daphne didn't strike him as good-willed attempt to make friends. Wanting to defuse whatever situation he could easily see boil, he was quick to take a seat beside them. Daphne seemed wholly unphased as she began to politely help herself to the food laid out before them.

"Alright kids!"

Mercifully, Sirius entered the room a second later and was quick to take his plate and begin shovelling food onto it.

"Mooney was just sayin' about the snow, how reckons going up the 'low for sledging later?"

Lupin followed slowly behind, looking a lot more aware and as like he was avoiding getting too close to Tonks and Daphne. Sirius protectively took a place beside Daphne, while Lupin sat settled down beside Tonks. It wasn't a very welcoming image and the tension was thick enough to be cut by a knife, but again, Daphne didn't seem like she had noticed. That, or more likely, she was refusing to allow herself be intimidated. Probably much more of the latter, now he considered it.

"I did _not _say that, Sirius. I simply remarked it was brilliant weather for it. I don't know how old you think we are... or how young, I should say," Lupin said with a smile.

Sirius waved him off.

"Ahh I've still got a few years left in me yet! What do you say, Harry? Up for a sledging trip later?"

It hardly seemed appropriate given the time, but he couldn't help the smile that came to his face imagining Lupin on a sledge, never mind Daphne.

"Sure, I guess. I'm up for whatever."

Daphne took a loud sip of her drink beside him.

"I've never been sledding before. Would you teach me how?"

"Lucky for you, _you're_ not leaving the house."

His eyes slowly descended on Tonks, who was twirling some bacon around on her fork, unimpressed. He held his breath for a moment, hoping Daphne wouldn't rise to it.

"So… we picked up some bread for you, Sirius!" he broke the silence that had set in.

His godfather smiled eagerly back at him, a string of bacon dangling from his mouth.

"Ah, good on you mate, cheers!"

"Took you an hour to get some bread, did it?" she muttered again.

Harry glanced around the room. Daphne and Sirius looked completely oblivious to her attitude, helping themselves to the food, while Lupin was the only other one who appeared to understand the thin ice surrounding the kitchen was resting on.

"I showed Daphne around the block a bit, as well... She doesn't get to visit many muggle cities."

Tonks nodded miserably.

"Showing the enemy our hideout, that's cool."

Lupin looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but even when Harry shot him a look that begged him to, the ex-professor remained reluctantly quiet. Then Daphne let out a slow breath, a sound which triggered Harry, as he knew exactly what was coming next.

She lifted her head up from her breakfast, stone-faced.

"I am _trying _to eat my breakfast. I was invited here as a guest. If you have a problem with that, I am more than happy for us to go outside and settle it between ourselves?"

Tonks leaned across the table, glowering at her.

"More than happily, Princess."

Lupin coughed roughly into his fist, rounding the attention his way.

"There will be _no_ duelling this close to Christmas, thank you very much!"

Tonks groaned obnoxiously.

"Remus, when _is_ Snape getting here with the veritaserum?"

"This evening, I believe. Around five o'clock."

She shot Daphne a glare that told the room that wait was too long for her. Daphne remained, as always, enchantingly unphased. Harry, determined as ever to split this up, leaned to her side.

"_Do you just want to eat this in the drawing room?" _he whispered.

It was just the first thing that came into his mind, that suggestion. He knew it wasn't like her to back down from a fight. Nor was it in her nature to take any insults from anyone, but he prayed the time they'd just spent together was fresh enough in her head to affect her decision making.

Reluctantly, and much to the delight of the lads in the room, Daphne conceded.

"... fine."

She did not sound happy with that one bit. She snatched her plate off the table and pushed her chair back, loudly scraping it across the kitchen tiles. Harry made haste to scramble his things and go after her, flashing Lupin an apologetic look.

"You kids leave the door open now, ya hear!" Sirius cheered merrily after them, forcibly oblivious.

Before the two of them had even properly began to climb the staircase, he could already hear the sounds of Tonks being scolded behind them.

"Just upstairs and to your left!"

Harry was talking to her, but had the feeling she wasn't listening.

"How well do you know that woman?"

"What, Tonks?"

She nodded.

"I don't know… Kinda well, I guess?" he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "Known her for a few years now. She's usually quite a laugh."

Daphne turned her nose up.

"What kind of a woman is so threatened by a teenager? Very quite insecure for her age, isn't she?"

He didn't answer.

She stomped for a few more paces before he was able to gain the lead and navigate them to the drawing room. Once inside he decided to hell with Sirius, and made sure the door was securely shut before putting his plate down on the table.

"What is _this_ \- ?!"

Daphne had taken particular interest in the room around them, and Harry didn't blame her either. Around this time last year he'd found this room for the first time as well.

Surrounding them was the large, painted portrait of Sirius' family. This was a room he didn't like being in, as it brought images of the kindest man he knew going through a life not unlike the one he lived at the Dursleys, but it was also one of the nicer ones in the house.

As her eye-line traced the family tree, he could see a familiar discomfort on her face.

"This _was_ Sirius' family," he explained.

She was sporting a face on her that he couldn't quite describe. Her food lay, now completely forgotten beside her, as she looked fallen somewhere between disgusted and surprised. It took her a few silent seconds of eyeing the wall before she eventually responded to him.

"W have a similar portrait at the Woodhouse. It hasn't been updated in years, I believe Astoria still needs to be added. But it's not like this, this is… Harry, striking a face from a family tree is an incredibly dishonourable act… to do it so _many _times…"

Daphne turned to stare back at him, a sullen expression.

"What _happened _to them all?"

He let out a long and sobering breath, not entirely knowing how to answer that.

"They all disagreed, I guess... Sirius's mother was mental. She's the one that did all that. Him and Tonks' mother got disowned for associating with… well… you know..."

His words petered out but the implication still rang clear. Daphne shook her head, her eyes moving back on the tapestry.

"Despicable."

Harry watched her from the corner of his eye. Truth be told, he'd been waiting specifically to show her this room. He felt he would do a lot for her. Quite what it would do, he didn't know yet. She brought herself off the table and moved closer to the wall. He watched as her hand traced along the branches of the family tree. He suddenly wasn't much interest in his food either.

"It's families like this that are as much a part of the problem as cross breeding is."

He cocked his eyebrow at her, unsure.

"What'd you mean?"

Since she'd spotted the portrait, Harry felt like he was the third wheel. There was a lot going on behind her eyes. He wanted to push her properly about it, but reluctantly, something kept stopping him. Her hand reached the end of a branch, stopping over Sirius's scorched off face, where it lingered.

"They're so willing to throw their own under the bus just to make themselves feel better…" she scrunched up her nose in disgust, "Because of that, there's barely any of us left. What they _claim_ they want is to keep the bloodlines clean, yet they're the reason they're shrinking."

"I meant what'd you say about crossbreeding?"

She paused.

"It doesn't matter."

It did matter. But she'd talk when she was ready. It wasn't his place to push, he had to keep reminding himself.

"Pray my father doesn't get any ideas... if he saw this, I don't think he'd think twice about striking mother from it."

Something perked alive inside he.

"Tracey mentioned something about your mum. She said she was muggleborn?"

Her eyes sank away from the wall and fell on him once more. She didn't look as apprehensive as she imagined he would. In his head, he came up with the answer why she never mentioned her mum was ashamed of her for whatever reason, but that wasn't the face she wore on her now. Instead she was looking vaguely aloof, as though he had just reminded her of something from long ago.

"Did she? Mmhmm. She's not supposed to tell people about that. I'll be having words."

Again, the general softness she spoke with almost gave him the impression that he was listening in on a conversation not directed at him.

"Yes, my mother was muggle-born placed in Gryffindor," she continued. "My father was in Slytherin, so they disliked each other out of principal. At this point, of course, he was nowhere near as into the dark arts as my uncle and his friends were. He was only concerned around himself, which was probably why he slept around so much in his youth. Anyway, my mother was engaged to one of his friends and they had Tracey together. Unfortunately, she and my father were also having an affair, and I was born shortly after."

Harry could see why she hadn't explained her history before, that was certainly a lot to take in. So her mum was sleeping with two best friends at the same time? And he thought his drama was bad.

Daphne brought herself back to their table and set her bottom against the rim of it.

"I went to live with daddy on his estate, while mother stayed with Tracey's father, although at this point the wedding had obviously been called off. Then, to make matters worse he was also found out to be a Death Eater as well. Broke mothers heart. When him, my aunt and uncle all got sent to Azkaban, it left my parents with a choice between retaliation or choosing the family... As you can probably deduce, they chose differently."

A muggleborn torn between two Death Eater's? Harry's eyes nearly boggled from his head. Her mother was probably a very interesting woman to be around.

"What about your other sister? Astoria?" he asked her.

She looked at him. She was wearing a new expression on her face that, surprisingly, he hadn't seen before. Had she just aged thirty years right before him? The way she looked speaking about all of this was akin to a grandparent reminiscing their younger days.

"Well, daddy never could never keep a woman more than a few years. Astoria's only my half sister, just as Tracey is. He knocked another girl up and then when he refused to marry her, she in turn, refused to raise a baby on her own. Quite rightly so I'd say, as well. So even though I don't technically have any full siblings, Astoria was raised as my little sister. Ironically, daddy only ever wanted a son, yet he ended up with two daughters that he never asked for."

Harry felt his face drop, and he made no efforts to lift it back up. He never had liked the sound of Benedict Greengrass, but now he had an all new reason not to. Daphne noticed the spike in his mood.

"Don't misread me, he still loves us. He has unusual ways of showing it, granted, but he wants what's best for me. Unfortunately he's an old-fashioned bigot and our ideas of whats _best_ often cause us to clash. His heart is in the right place... just sometimes I wonder if that is enough."

She brought her head up in a sudden jerk, looking as though she'd just emerged from underwater.

"I do apologise," she looked away suddenly, "... I can't imagine you want to hear about any of this."

It caught him off guard. His mouth bobbed open and close on the spot for a minute before he could formulate a worthy response.

"No, no, it's alright. It's interesting," he nodded at her, "You don't really talk about your family much."

Daphne pulled a dry, thin smile.

"For good reason, I assure you. The Greengrass name is held in high prestige, but the whole thing is simply a facade for the dysfunctional family that we really are. We don't even have contact with my grandfather anymore. Father forced him out of the estate so he could take on the title of lord. Last I saw him I probably wasn't more than a second year."

Since she had returned to the table the two of them had been moving gradually closer to one another. Or more accurately, Daphne had been the one sinking closer and closer into his side. It wasn't him overthinking that, either, she was definitely moving in on him. He had barely moved and now they stood rubbing shoulders. It was enough contact for Harry to feel himself getting flustered and self-conscious over it.

"I mean, you know me…" he laughed awkwardly, "... I don't really have much contact with my family either."

A sudden snort erupted from her - not unlike the one from earlier - and just _like _the one from earlier, she looked to regret it instantly. Fear overtook her face and she covered her mouth with both her hands, apologetically.

"I shouldn't laugh at that! That's awful! I'm so sorry."

He just smiled back at her.

Truly, there was nothing more cute than when she slipped up like that like. He didn't know why she didn't enjoy laughing, or maybe she just didn't like doing it in front of people? It was the only part of her Ice Queen persona that she maintained around him. But in the end, that just made it all the more special when he got to see it.

He moved suddenly. He wasn't thinking about it, just acting on impulse. He pulled the arm she was leaning on free and stepped back, causing her to gently fall against his chest. He then brought his arms around her waist - her thin, doll-like waist - and secured them around her.

He felt her seize up at the contact. That familiar, bubbling sensation started inside him again. She felt so little when in his arms. This powerful witch was all his. A warmth spread through his heart, into his stomach and then everywhere else. In her own due course, she nuzzled her head against his.

She didn't like being hugged without her consent, he knew that. But yet, she wasn't fighting him on it. What was the difference between now and at the start of term, when she pushed him away? Had he finally figured her out, maybe? Both times he had simply done what he felt was right at the time, since that was the foundation they built their relationship on, after-all. No, he knew the difference now.

The difference was her. It was a different Daphne, she was changing and he could see it by the day.

"Harry…"

"Yeah?"

A moment passed between them where nothing but the rising and falling of their breaths in sync was present.

"Nothing… doesn't matter."

Her tone told him otherwise. He gently pulled his arms tighter around her waist.

"No, what is it?"

More seconds ticked over. She didn't respond. He wished he could see her face, so he could read her expression. He wanted to know what she was feeling.

"D-do you…think that…"

She sounded unsure. She never sounded unsure. Her whole personality was built around being right about everything and any given time.

A noisy shuffling followed by loud bang snapped the two from their trance. Sirius opened the door, smiling in on them eagerly.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Daphne pulled against his arms. As much as he wished to hold on, reluctantly he allowed his grip of her to slip. She moved a few inches away from him, looking embarrassed.

Harry glowered back at Sirius.

"What's up?"

"You know piano, Daffy?"

She perked up at the mention of her name and nodded politely.

"Of course."

Sirius cackled and gestured for them to come his way.

"Sick, come on!"

* * *

She'd been so close to giving in. It had felt so right at the time. But didn't it always?

This was wrong. She couldn't go back down that rabbit hole again. She knew when she agreed to come here that her intentions were not pure, but she was on thin ice now. If she gave in then she would endanger everyone. The best thing that she could do for both of them was making sure that _them _wasn't a thing. That was the only way to save him.

"How'd you know she could play the piano?" Harry asked from ahead.

"She comes from a hoity-toity family, doesn't she? She can probably play just about anything! Isn't that right, daffy?"

She pushed a sharp breath out her nose. If she wasn't so amused by her family being described as hoity-toity, she'd probably have been concerned about Sirius picking the same name for her that Tracey used.

"Piano, violin and flute, " she answered matter-of-factually, "Father had me learning from a young age."

He lead them out into a larger room, similar to the one they'd just been in but minus the portrait adorning the walls. What did grab her attention, however, was the antique grand piano against the window.

"Don't know Fairytale of New York, do ya?"

She settled down onto the seat before it and took about checking the tuning of the keys.

"It's not one I am familiar with, but if you have the sheet music I could certainly give it a try?"

Sirius waved off her and strung himself over the piano, looking not unlike a cat stretching out it's back.

"Ahhh, it's a muggle one, didn't expect you to. You just play what you like!"

"We Will Rock You by the Queen, by any chance?"

Daphne bit down on her lip, hardening her lips to prevent a smile. She looked back at Harry with heat in her cheeks. He grinned harder.

"Go on sweetness," Sirius gestured to the piano again, "Give us what you got."

The tuning definitely wasn't the best - like most things in this house, it must have been a few years since someone used it - but she could definitely make do. With any luck the out of tune keys could disguise the fact that she hadn't practised in little over two years now.

After taking a second to settle on what to play, she slowly began to rattle out the keys for an older song, early 18th century if she remembered correctly - and muggle in origin. She couldn't remember the name but the movement memory came naturally to her. Professor Flitwick had taught her the lyrics as well, but there was no force on this earth that could make her sing in front of people, even if it was in front of the man she intended on spending her future with.

She missed a key. A loud obnoxious sound rang through the room, spoiling the memory. She made haste to correct her melody. She still hadn't fully recovered from her hug with Harry, that was it. Today had come with a few moments like that but this had been the one that got to her.

She did so love it when he was forceful. That was an awful thing for her to be attracted to, she knew, but she wasn't about to deny the effect it had on her.

But spending her _future _with him? When did _that _happen? They had been through a lot together, of course, but the rest of her life was a very long time. Was he really the man she wanted to settle down with? She wanted a peaceful life far away from the conflict and politics of war, she couldn't really have picked someone further away from that. He said he wanted to help her, but that was a far cry from a marriage proposal.

Then again, she could still feel his arms around her waist. The feeling it brought her, among many things, was a feeling she knew was worth fighting for.

When she brought her head up from the keys she found he had left the room. She looked quizzically at Sirius.

"He's, ehh… just nipped for a word with Tonks. Shouldn't worry! Carry on, by all means!"

She nodded gratefully at him. He grinned at her and moved around to the back of the piano. She didn't know quite how she had imagined Sirius Black originally, nor how she pictured him after he was found innocent, but the crazy fun uncle definitely wasn't what she had in mind.

"I come from a family of Death Eaters too, you know! Harry's shown you the mess of the portrait, I take it?"

She was still trying to settle her emotions down. Her mind was practically alive with fantasies and feelings, it took her a second to formulate herself into giving a response.

"He did. I am very sorry that happened to you."

"Oh, no, don't be! I'm certainly not. Without it, I wouldn't have realised how much more there is to life than just caring about what your bloody dead relatives think."

She hadn't stopped playing the piano, but as his words, she did definitely slow her rhythm on the keys.

"I... can definitely understand where that's coming from."

Sirius cackled warmly under his breath. She peaked a curious eyebrow at him. This man truly was like Tracey, just aged up and gender swapped.

"I was sixteen years old when I ran away from this place. Do you know where I went?"

She shook her head.

"I went to the Potters. Harry's dad - James - he was my best mate. Always there for me, through thick and thin. And when I took my leap of faith, it was him on the other side to catch me. They've always been good at that - the Potters - don't you think?"

Was he comparing them? Was the implication there that Harry and her were the James and Sirius of their generation? The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was beginning to bare a striking amount of similarities to the House of Greengrass, now she considered it.

It's why the house had been steadily unnerving her all day. She could see herself here. She could see her family. When Harry showed her the Black family portrait, she saw nothing but her own future staring back at her. If you went into the Greengrass Woodhouse today, it'd probably look to an outsider the way Grimmauld Place looked to her. Harry had even commented on how empty it felt during his short visit last year. The difference was, here every room was full and lived. Tonks and Professor Lupin didn't live here, they were visiting. Daphne didn't have that. Her aunt and uncle were dead, her mother and Tracey weren't welcome in their house, so there were no visitors. There was the occasional visit from a clan of Death Eaters, sure. But even since she was a girl, things had never felt homely.

Not like they did here, where even she, as an unwelcome outsider, could see that.

There was definitely a comparison to be drawn, but it would be one in Black's favour. They had faced the situation she was spiralling towards and they'd come back from it with their humanity intact. Was there even going to be anything left of the Greengrass's soon other than a big and empty house?

Daphne chose her next words carefully.

"Harry has certainly done a lot for me. He helped me see how little control I had over my own life." she breathed, "And once I realise that I, well, I never wanted to go back to it."

The older man gave an all too-knowing smile, and in that moment, she felt her trust in him skyrocket.

"He's a great lad. Really. He's got a good heart in his chest. I'm glad someone else sees it. And I hope that... Maybe… he can do for you the same things that James did for me."

Her fingers had nearly completed the carol, moving on autoplay, but now she had to think hard about her next movements as she approached the melodies end.

Oh, how she wished it didn't have to end.


	21. Sins of the Father

_Warning: Chapter borderlines M-rating towards the end. Not enough to change the whole story to M-rated, but if that's not your thing then reader discretion is advised. _

* * *

They'd spent the day lounging, talking and trying just to have as much fun as they could, but that was difficult with the coming evening looming over them.

Now it was finally time. The atmosphere was almost biblical. The room was illuminated by candle light, contrasting the specks of snowfall outside the window. The occupants of Grimmauld Place gathered systematically around the fireplace, with Daphne seated apprehensively at their centre. The five figures gathered in close around her; Harry and Sirius on their knees in front, Lupin and Tonks taking an arm each beside her and the ghoulishly form of Severus Snape hovering over the back of her chair.

As they began, the only sound in the room was the crackling fire and the heavy breathing shared by two of its occupants.

"What is your full title?" Lupin asked her slowly.

He could see Daphne wasn't comfortable with this setup - rightly so, as the whole lay out screamed more of an interrogation than the fair questioning that they were promised. Tonks, by example, seemed delighted with the scenario as she hung over Daphne with predatory eyes. While Harry sympathised with her, he wasn't about to speak up and start something when he knew what was already hanging in the balance. He knew she was strong enough for this. And even if she wasn't, now was the chance to be.

He shouldn't be as worried as he was. He knew the anxieties he had were just nerves and overthinking. He was confident in himself - and confident in her. But nonetheless, the darker recesses of his mind just couldn't be shaken. Thus he sat there with tingly armpits, hanging on every word that unfolded before him.

Daphne took a long and sobering breath before answering.

"Lady Daphne-Estelle of House Greengrass. Second of my name, heir to the Greengrass fortune and estate."

"And when were you born?"

"The third of September, Nineteen Eighty-One."

Lupin's eyes slowly switched back to look at him. Then as did Sirius' and Tonks'. When he looked up, even Snape was staring back at him expectantly. He felt like he was missing something.

"What... ?"

"Well? Is that right?"

His face fumbled into a frown.

"I don't know... ?"

Sirius sagged and then tutted loudly, slipping a dagger through the foreboding intensity the room had set up.

"How do you not know your own bloody girlfriend's birthday?! That's like lesson one!"

Harry opened his mouth to passionately defend himself, but it was then Daphne who cut him off.

"We are not together. We remain having a romantic interest in one another, but for the time being our relationship is platonic and dependency-based."

Sirius scrunched his brow up at her, and looked like he was about to say something, but Snape suddenly diverted the attention his way. Harry was able to catch the pained look that flashed briefly across Daphne's face as she finished speaking. He wished he could help her.

"Focus…" Snape said slowly through his teeth, "Miss Greengrass has suffered quite enough from the effects of Veritserium's _runaway tongue_ last year."

Mentally - and quite possibly for the first time ever - Harry found himself appreciating Snape. Lupin moved back in awkwardly, ready to begin again.

"Right, Daphne, tell me… what are your views on the ethics of blood purity?"

Just like that, his stomach sank. Harry's eyebrows shot into his hairline, as did Daphne's, who suddenly looked like she was trying not to be sick.

"That's not fair!" he accused loudly.

Lupin didn't break eye contact with her, instead raised a hand to silence him.

"Let her speak."

Harry's eyes met hers and he could see how much resistance she was putting in trying to keep herself quiet.

"You can tell she's trying not to! This isn't fair! Sirius, do something!"

"What's wrong, eh?" Tonks sneered opposite him, "Has 'ickle Princess got something to hide?"

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and Sirius's breath in his ear.

"Let her answer. Trust us, Harry. Remus knows what he's doing."

Daphne must have heard the words of comfort as well, as she slowly de-tensed back into her seat. Though apprehensive at first, eventually her lips softened and let words escape her mouth.

"I believe…that… " she started quietly but then grew steadily louder.

The group leered in, waiting on her every syllable. Harry could see Tonks grinning something ugly.

Daphne shut her eyes.

" … the magical race is dying because of selfish individuals polluting the bloodlines by…" she breathed, "... _breeding_... with muggles and the muggleborns. Muggles are a hostile, medieval and brutish race that used to kill, dismember and burn our kind years ago. If it were up to me, then... crossbreeding between the two races would be forbidden."

She spoke like there was a knife in her stomach, and wore an expression to match. Her words hung painfully loud in the room.

For a brief, stunned moment, nobody said anything. Harry's gaze turned into a blazing glare, targeted towards at Lupin.

"However - !"

She shattered the silence by opening her eyes and taking a loud, sharp breath.

"I do recognise the violation of free-will that would bring! As such, I try not to involve myself in the politics surrounding it… It's a no-win situation and no-matter the outcome, discussing it only fuels people's tempers and resolves nothing in the process. There's nothing to be done about it, nor should anything _be_ done about it that isn't voluntary to the individual. I attempt to not let someone's blood purity affect the way I act around them... It is out of their control and they are not the source of the blame. That is my belief on the matter."

Just like that, he felt a cooling shower of relief wash over him. Identically, Sirius deflated beside him.

"Nice save."

Despite this, Harry didn't give up the death-glare he was giving Lupin.

"That's a question designed to make her sound like a Death Eater!" he hissed.

Looking far more tired than the man should have been for the time of day, Lupin shook his head.

"It's still a relevant question, my boy. Please, Harry, I need your trust in this. I want the same thing as you, I promise you that."

His jaded expression did nothing to dose the fire rising inside Harry.

These were all just words he'd been hearing. It had been like that since this interaction began. The energy in the room had become hostile and targeted towards Daphne. Like how it felt during breakfast, but turned up to ten. This wasn't a fair trial, it was never meant to be. They just wanted a confession out of her and nothing more.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal, almost as if this was precisely the moment his so-called friends had been waiting for. Tonks had looked ready for a fight the second Snape brought out the vial of potion, she was definitely not hear to listen to Daphne's side of the story.

The wand he had concealed in his pocket was slowly itching to be picked up.

"How do you feel about…" Lupin began again, chewing his top lip for a moment before continuing, "... the methods performed by Tom Riddle Jr... or as he is more commonly known, Lord Voldemort?"

She snapped straight in her seat.

Harry only noticed this because in the past, he'd only ever seen her shy away from Voldemorts name. Or she would curse him for saying it around her. He'd never seen her rise to acknowledge it before.

"He is the most terrifying… _thing_ that I have met in my entire life," she spoke firmly while shaking her head. "His actions far outlay his intentions. Whatever his beliefs may be - be them justified or not - killing is never the answer and _definitely_ not the killing of innocence."

Sirius's cheeky grin came into his line of sight. Harry tried to fight off a similar feeling himself, determined to keep a neutral mindset.

There it was, though. That was, almost word-for-word, the exact sentence they had needed the group to hear. And she was on vertiserium, making it one-hundred percent, undeniably true. A built-up breath escaped Harry, one that he had no idea he'd been holding in.

_"Focus."_

It was rare Harry saw Snape nervous, but he'd definitely describe him as such. He didn't blame the man either, he could feel his own heart threatening to burst out the bottom of his throat right baout now.

"Now, Daphne, could you confirm for me if you were present on the attack against the Department of Magical Artefacts on November Nineteenth of this year? And if you engaged their Auror escort in combat?"

The room dropped to such a drastic silence, you probably could have heard a pin drop. The crackling of the fire became painfully loud.

For once, Harry had no idea where things were going to go. He had no idea about anything that Lupin had just mentioned. He was positive that she would have mentioned something as big as that to him. But November Nineteenth… that had been the night of the Quidditch match against Slytherin. The night he and Tracey had their heart-to-heart and grew closer as friends. And if his memory wasn't deceiving him… that was also around the same time that she stopped showing up for lessons and started wearing the eyepatch.

Then, said pin dropped. He watched Daphne carefully, taking a second. Painfully slowly, she nodded in acknowledgement.

"I was present for the attack and I did engage, yes."

His stomach churned into a knot as the familiar sense of betrayal washed over him, now redirected. He felt his very core elevate out of his body and hang somewhere above his head.

"You… wha… ?" he asked, impossibly quietly.

"You did _what_?" Tonks repeated him, albeit much harsher.

Lupin fiercely waved them off.

"In your own words, Daphne… can you tell us what happened?"

She wasn't looking at him now. He desperately tried to grab her attention anyway he could. He needed reassurance. They'd been exchanging periodic glances since the interrogation began, but now her gaze was planted firmly into the distance. And it definitely wasn't by accident.

"Our mission brief was to capture the Spear of Longinus. I was partnered with another Death Eater, a battle broke out between us and the Aurors present," she shakily continued, "we were able to escape, but were both injured badly."

"_You_ were on the Spear of Longinus Heist!?" Tonks asked again, loud and abruptly, making Harry jump on the spot.

She nodded solemnly.

"I did not want to be there…" she was sounding weak for the first time, "Father thought of it an easy and an appropriate way to get in the Dark Lord's good books. When the mission went wrong and the Aurors arrived, I only fought back in self defence. That's the truth. I apparated out as soon as I could."

"You _apparated_?" Harry asked suddenly, even surprising himself.

Lupin shushed him again.

"What was the extent of which you fought? Did you kill anybody?"

"No - !" she said quickly. "I would never, nor _could_ I ever! I used disarming and non-lethal enchantments only. With the Aurors, anyway… But then I also…"

She drew quiet, which caught everyone's eye. She was very clearly biting her tongue. She looked outright vicious, in fact. She was struggling with the words coming out of her mouth, but not because she didn't want to say them, it looked more like she didn't want to admit them even to herself. He had seen similar faces pulled by women giving birth, back when he used to watch Aunt Petunia's medical shows.

"You also...?" Lupin pushed.

"I… I had to…"

His heart hung in the balance.

She scrunched up her face and made a noise akin to a crocodiles-hissing.

"I performed the Imperius curse on a Muggle. I had to get myself to safety. I wouldn't have made it through the night if I did not."

He didn't believe that. He didn't believe that for one second. The potion was obviously faulty, there wasn't a shred of the woman he had spent night after night with in the Room of Requirement that was capable of that. The woman he'd just spent Christmas with was _not_ a Death Eater. She wouldn't do any of that.

But if she could only speak the truth… Then how much of her did he really know?

Harry bit down hard on the inside of his lip, calming his raging thoughts.

He had to stop. He couldn't afford to think like that. She established already with him that she had to do horrible things. It was his fault for not understanding _how_ awful she meant. This was just her following through on her word, this shouldn't be news to him. He was struggling to picture his Daphne doing those things, but she was still the same person he knew and had feelings for. Now he had to remain the same Harry that convinced her to come here.

"I see… Well now, Daphne that's understandably quite serious…" Lupin struggled with his words, "But if you really were forced into it by the circumstances of the situation… Well, why don't you tell me…"

Tonks butted in loudly, cutting him off.

"Did you curse an Auror with the tickling charm?"

Her trance-like state broke suddenly and she paused, before eventually giving into a frown.

"How did you…?"

Harry's eyes fell away from her and sank over to Tonks, who he now saw was fuming at her with red, fiery hair. Daphne too, apparently connected the dots too quickly. She suddenly looking a lot more uncomfortable in her seat. He had only seen her look at Tonks like she was something unpleasant on the underside of a shoe, but now she looked positively alarmed by her.

"_You're_ an Auror... ?"

Tonks went to viciously lurch forward, just as Sirius effortlessly swept her aside with his elbow. Harry's wand itched in his pocket again.

"You're the little _bitch_ that shattered Savage's leg, aren't you!?"

Lupin swept in with a firm hand on her shoulder, which Tonks barely noticed.

"Tonks, sweetheart, calm down…"

"It _was_ you that apparated Dawlish and Kingsley away at the end of the night, then?"

Daphne nodded curtly.

"It was."

"And are you prepared to tell me the identities of the Death Eater you worked with?"

She fell deathly silent, as did the room around her. She looked to be genuinely considering it, Harry thought.

She, of course, would _have_ to tell Tonks if she actually asked, but he wondered how specific that wording would have to be given she hadn't answered already. It would definitely go a long way to gain hers and the Orders trust, that couldn't be denied, but it was also asking a hell of a lot from Daphne.

"I… " she spoke wearily, "... do not think that would be a very good idea for me. It's information that only I and a select few know, so if I shared it, then it would get back to me. I am sorry., but I simply cannot allow that. Please don't make me."

Tonks let out a low, troubled growl

"'ight then... have it your way."

She stood up suddenly, catching all off guard and as such, nobody was able to stop her. Before anyone had time to react, there was a wand in Daphne's face.

"On behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I, Nymphadora Tonks of the Auror Offic-"

Then everything happened at once.

Daphne, who previously still as a stone, launched herself up and brought her knees beneath her, in a position that marked her ready to pounce. All Harry could think to do was fling himself useless between them, craning himself across Daphne, while Sirius apparently had much of the same idea and threw himself into Tonks. Lupin dove backwards from the conflict, roaring something foul. While watching silently over all of it, Snape was the first one with his wand out and his hand planted firmly on the shoulder of Daphne.

Wands were drawn and voices were alive, but nobody dared to move a muscle further. The fire burned extremely loudly.

"- PLACE YOU UNDER ARREST FOR CONSPIRACY AND ACTS OF TERRORIS -"

"- PUT IT AWAY, NYMPHADORA! YOU'RE BEING DAFT NOW!"

"SHE JUST WENT ON RECORD AND CONFESSED TO PARTAKING IN AN ATTACK AGAINST THE MINISTRY AND DIRECTLY IS CONCEALING INFORMATION! SHE CAN STAND TRAIL!"

Tonks was stabbing her wand through the air to point at Daphne, who looked like a tiger ready to attack.

"I'LL DO TO _YOU_ WHAT YOU DID TO YOUR FRIENDS IF YOU DON'T GET THAT OUT OF MY FACE!" she shouted back.

Veins were bulging from the side of her neck and Harry could see the spit leaving her mouth as she shouted. He was clawing to keep himself planted firmly between them.

"DAPHNE IS ONLY HERE BECAUSE _I _CONVINCED HER TO BE, IF YOU WANT TO ARREST HER THEN YOU HAVE TO ARREST ME TOO!" he was able to force in.

"WILL EVERYBODY JUST CALM DOWN, FOR GOODNESS SAKE!"

"- NOT UNTIL SHE'S OUT OF THE HOUSE!"

"- NOT UNTIL SHE BACKS OFF!"

"Miss Greengrass, would you _kindly_ inform the room of your intentions with Harry Potter?"

Snapes words - quiet as they were - successfully broke the room.

Silence once again took over, even though their positions remained unchanged. Sirius and Tonks froze mid-fight, Daphne remained perched on her seat with Harry slung messily across her. Lupin stared helplessly at what was unfolding before him.

Daphne's heavy panting was the only noise in the room to him, now their faces were almost touching.

When she spoke next, it was directly to him.

"Harry made me see who I really was…" her words were a contrasting calm, "... he opened my eyes to the world and as such, I have developed a hyperfixation on him as a representation of my own freedom. We started originally as a purely academic-based but quickly developed romantic interest in each other over a period of time. It was the happiest period of my life, romantic-or-otherwise, as brief as it has been. Now my only intentions are to provide Harry with the same freedom and sense of being that he provided me with, as well as protect him from those that may harm him."

A heartfelt speech that sounded like it took a lot to say - maybe if he wasn't in such an uncomfortable position, and still pointing his wand at somebody, he would have kissed her for it. He'd have to remember to do that later.

Lupin's confused breath took over the attention.

"You want to _protect_ him?"

She breathed in, secure and solid with her words as she ever was.

"It was the mission given to me by the Dark Lord, but it is also the mission that I gave myself."

Both Sirius and Tonks stirred all of a sudden, moving out of each other's clutches. That time, everyone's reaction was on the same page.

"Elaborate, Miss Greengrass," Snape demanded.

"The mission the Dark Lord gave to me was grow close to Harry Potter and gain his trust... but also to defend him from anyone that may been him harm."

Harry blinked like he'd just misheard her. Tonks snapped forward again.

"I told you! I'm summoning Mad-Eye!"

"SIT DOWN, TONKS!" Sirius snapped, moving in. "Why would Voldemort want to protect Harry? Why would he send her to do it?"

"She _just_ said she's a spy to get close to him! We need to do something! What more do you want?!"

But Harry had stopped watching the scene was it unfolded before him.

Everything Daphne had just said was extremely incriminating, and it should probably have been affecting him more than it was. But there was something about the look she was giving him. Their eye contact didn't break. It was odd. Maybe it was their close proximity, or maybe he was just stunned by her beauty, as he often was. But she looked sure. This wasn't like earlier, when she was trying not to speak. Now she had an expression on that practically invited further questioning.

Harry obliged, almost subconsciously.

"Ask her… ask her why she's here."

He could see Lupin hovering on the brink of his vision.

"What… w-what are…" The ex-Professor stumbled over his words for a second. "What reasons do you have for coming to Grimmauld Place? What intentions - whose orders are you acting on?"

For the first time all night, Daphne returned, with full confidence, to the thorough efficiency that made him so attracted to her in the first place.

"The only orders I'm acting on are my own. Harry offered me protection with the Order of the Phoenix. I was hesitant at first, but I eventually conceded. I wanted the help and I wanted to spend time with him. He tells me being here can help me escape the Dark Lords grasp?"

That was more like the Ice Queen he knew.

"Well... that depends... if that is what you _truly_ want?"

"That is the _only_ thing that I want."

For words so simple and straightforward, they had certainty taken a lot of struggle to get said. Neither Harry or Daphne broke contact. That moment hung in the room for a second. Still as statues they remained, with all eyes watching them.

"I don't know about you…" Sirius was the first to intrude on the silence, "... but I'm satisfied with what I've heard."

Tonks groaned obnoxiously. Honestly, the sound she kept making sounded similiar to a broken record.

"Don't be daft! Greengrass! What are the identifies of the Death Eaters that attacked the outpost?"

"The Car-"

Snape chimed in immediately, cutting her off.

"Today's date, Miss Greengrass?"

"December Twentieth, Nineteen Ninety-Five."

Tonks and him met in a stand off.

"Forcing the girl into telling you information she is uncomfortable with, or unwilling to give... it will violate her trust in you _and_ the Order… _Nymphadora_," he warned.

Sirius coughed loudly, nudging her quickly out of the way as he moved to replace her position.

"This is over. Severus, give her the antidote before she embarrasses herself."

Snape obeyed. He brought out a small via of potion and handed it to Daphne, who snatched it quite unexpectedly from his hand. She downed the potion in one sip and then gave an unpleasantly gasp of air as it began to work its way into her system.

Her gaze turned into a sombre look around the room, almost as if she was seeing it for the first time.

Her eyes fell cautiously onto Snape where she scowled at him.

"He is going to kill me."

Sirius cackled loudly.

"Silly Snape's not going to kill you… Couldn't even if he tried! Not with us here, anyway."

She licked her dry lips, unamused.

"Then he'll get somebody that can. He is a Death Eater," she hissed at him sourly, "Why don't you show them your arm, Professor?"

Despite all the good he'd just done for her - quite possibly being the only one truly on her side during the interrogation - the two sneered at each other, as though repulsed by the others very existence.

"How about... I'll show them mine, if you show them yours?"

Harry and Sirius moved in identically, positive she was about to make a go for their ex-Potions-Professor. But she remained reluctantly in her seat, though with that familiar glare on her face.

Snape moved off, smug. It was at this time everyone slowed separated and the atmosphere in the room changed; the integration was now truly over. Everyone moved off to their respective corners of the rooms to exchange in private conversation, or perhaps that was just the way Harry saw it, as he came down intimately to Daphne's side.

He wanted to say something, but found no words were coming to mind. What really was there to say, after all that? His mind was a mess with new conflicting information, but he still wanted to offer her some kind of support. He couldn't find his voice, so she would have to settle for his mere presence. He moved his hand to her knee. She didn't fight it, which was good, but to his surprise - considering her proximity to the fire - he found her ice cold.

_"Well that was all good for nothing…"_ he heard Tonks mumble from across the room.

Daphne's head snapped to the side.

"I don't like you, at all."

Tonks grimaced back at her.

"Feelings mutual, Princess."

Harry frowned, moving his eyeline around Daphne and onto Snape, who had moved to converse with Lupin.

"Thought you gave her the antidote?"

Snape looked briefly back and forth between Tonks and Daphne, vague amusement on his face.

"I did."

Harry chewed his lip.

"Oh."

He and Snape both paused for the moment, before returning to their respective conversations.

At last, Harry was able to find his voice with her. There was a lot he wanted to go over about what just happened. Voldemort, The Imperius Curse, the Death Eater attack, the fact that she could apparate… but rather smartly, he knew this was neither the time nor place to ask about any of it.

In fact, judging by the weakened expression on her face, she'd probably struggle to answer even if he did.

"You... okay?" he settled on.

She took a moment to respond. She looked somewhere between falling asleep and being sick.

"I think that I would very much like to go to bed now, please."

Sirius leapt into action behind them.

"I've cleared out Regulus' old room for you."

Harry frowned at the intrusion and, channelling Daphne, he kept that glare up until Sirius fully disappeared from the room. Then, he turned back to her.

"You did well, Daphne… really. I know that was probably hard."

She nodded, licking her lips again.

"Could I have a drink, please? The antidote tastes horrible."

He nodded eagerly and rushed to his feet, where he then left the room behind and entered the much colder kitchen.

He began pulling things from cupboard, not entirely paying attention as his mind was more than preoccupied. From his position, he could see enough of the living room to see Snape approach Tonks ominously, who seemed to shrink a few inches when she noticed him.

"Satisfied now, are we Nymphadora? This all going to make a nice report for the Ministry?"

Tonks, looking extremely troubled, crossed her arms.

"Well... I guess outside from splinching Dawlish and breaking Savage's leg… I didn't _actually_ see her attack anyone. And we did ensure the Spear was handed off to the Nurmengard Aurors. When we regrouped at the Ministry I mentioned in my report there was a Death Eater who kept trying to run away, so that's already on record at least. And now I guess it's obvious she's telling the truth... So, I probably shouldn't write any of this up until we know what to do with her."

Snape took his turn to cross his arms, and if Harry hadn't had been mistaken, he could almost hear amusement in his tone.

"Would I be being presumptuous to suggest… no harm means no foul?"

Tonks cursed something under her breath.

"Yeah, alright. Whatever."

Lupin was the next to chime in, though Harry couldn't see him.

"You know actually, my dear... she's in a situation not dissimilar to one both your mother and Sirius found themselves in in their youth. Bearing that in mind… is there anything you feel you should say to Daphne, Tonks?"

Tonks looked, quite literally, like a child being scolded by her parents. She scrunched up her face in protest.

"... _Sorry_."

* * *

Isolation was the only thing she desired right now. She had just been happy to get out of that room and have the attention off her - nothing else mattered other than getting alone. Coming upstairs had passed like a blur, as had pretty much everything after she was handed the potion antidote.

The bedroom was in better condition than the others she'd seen. It seemed less lived in, because of that it had retained it's older generation aesthetic. The furniture was actually not unlike that of her own bedroom, which definitely helped. Sirius handed her off to the room, she had mumbled a thank you and shut the door immediately behind her. She left Harry behind; she hadn't meant to. She put her drink on the bedside table where it would lay abandoned completely.

It was her first time in this room, but that didn't stop her marching across it and collapsing onto the bed like it had been her own for years. By the Olds Gods, she could right lay down for the rest of eternity.

She'd done her part now. She had begrudgingly shown them her underbelly and heed their every demand. She'd been taken advantage of way more than she'd agreed to, but had stuck with it through determination and her own stubbornness. She had overcome every obstacle they'd thrown her way without blinking and now, away from the eyes of others, it was finally time to tend to herself. She didn't know quite how to feel. She knew how she was _supposed_ to feel, but her brain was conflicting her heart - and not for the first time.

She needed to calm herself down; she suddenly regretted leaving her wine on the side when she entered, but truly had no energy in her to retrieve it. She was in the safe zone, she kept reminding herself. The worst of it was over. She'd taken the first big step she needed to head in the right direction. Needless to say at this point, but this was certainly not how she imagined Christmas with Harry.

This was it, then? No going back anymore. She had gone behind her father's back - behind her families back - for her own best interest. And yet she felt delightfully and surprisingly… not bad about it at all, really. There was a time once where visualising her father finding out about her secret life filled her with anxiety and dread, the very prospect had been enough to keep her up at night. Yet now? She found she was taking an inordinate amount of pleasure picturing his face drop. That was the feeling that was so concerning for her. Her heart was screaming no, that she shouldn't be here, that these people were the enemy… while her brain told her this place was _exactly _where she needed to be.

She pulled herself up into the sitting position.

A sudden occurrence sprung to her head; she could use the bathroom. It would help her nerves and organise her thoughts, and she could pick up her drink on the way back.

Slowly and painfully, she brought herself back up off the bed. She'd been toilet briefly here before, Harry had shown her the way. It had been a few doors down from the portrait room - if her memory served her. Should be easy to slip there and back without being noticed by anyone, since she knew a long time would have to pass before she'd be any kind of social mood again.

She turned the doorknob and then stopped, frowning. She turned it the other way and paused again.

Had…

Had they locked her in?

"Hello...?" her voice barely cracked and she knew instantly that volume alone would not bring her an answer.

She rapped loudly against the wooden door a number of times.

"Hello?" she spoke again, louder. "... I would like to use the bathroom, please!"

No stirring or response of any kind. She deflated. She didn't know if she was angry over their _utter_ nerve, or disappointed she wasn't truly out of the woods with them yet.

"Can _anyone_ hear me?"

She knew she wasn't just locked in; there had been a specific ward had been placed over this room to prevent her leaving. Honestly, had her exposing her deepest darkest secrets to strangers not been enough for these people?

A sudden fire surged through Daphne and she banged angrily against the door.

"I WOULD _VERY MUCH_ LIKE TO BE LET OUT, THANK YOU!"

Her words echoed in the room around her, but again, no reaction came. She huffed and gave up, stomping her way back to the bed.

She didn't even massively need the bathroom anyway, it just would have gone a long way to settle her. But instead she was apparently locked in for the night. Did these people not know nothing about accommodation? After all she had been through, she was a guest in this house, and should not have to ask for a chaperone to go the bloody toilet!

At that exact second, while her mind was too preoccupied ranting to itself, the door opened and Harry stepped in.

"Don't close th-!"

The door swung shut behind him.

She sighed and deflated back onto her bed, arms folded over her chest. He stared at her like she'd just spoken in another language.

"You alright? Were you shouting?"

Daphne remained solid on the bed.

"Why is there a magical ward over my room?"

He frowned at her, then turned and tried the door for himself. It took him longer than it should have to connect the dots.

_"For god's sake…"_ he mumbled under his breath.

He moved over and took a seat beside her on the large bed, sinking a little into the huge pile of cushions that adorned it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise. Tonks must have done that... I'm really sorry, Daphne."

He was looking at her with soft eyes. Those were the eyes she usually hated; eyes that held sympathy and pity for her. She did everything to avoid those eyes, but yet this time they fell on her differently.

No anger rose inside her, instead they bypassed all those feelings completely and connected deep inside her. Daphne kept her position and her stone face, but said nothing more.

She wasn't mad anymore.

"How _are _you doing?" he asked her, genuinely.

She had a lot of feelings, and not all of them she felt she could even fully describe to herself. Nor was she entirely in the mood for sharing them, either.

"Fine."

He cocked his brow at her.

"Just fine?"

She thought for a second.

"Yes fine.." she repeated, "I am a bit shaky and I have to say, that mulled wine you did for me was awful. But, yes. I am fine."

Harry paused.

"Daphne, that was hot Vimto."

She frowned back at him.

"Is that a Russian Crimea?"

He shook his head, she swore she caught him smile to himself. If she had any more effort left inside her to give then she'd have scolded him for it. Even though she didn't know why, it just felt the appropriate response for whenever he did that.

He scooched more onto the bed beside her. She instinctively budged up to allow him on and finally let loose her crossed arms.

"I'm sorry it got so intense in there," he said genuinely, "I really had no idea Lupin would do that... We weren't going to let Tonks take you, hope you know that."

His words came with a kind of finality about them, which Daphne could recognise. She pursed her lips. While she appreciated the apology, it didn't do much to improve her mood.

"Yes, well… she couldn't have, even if she tried."

Harry stifled a laugh.

"I mean, she is a professional Auror. She doesn't act like it, but I've seen her in action. She was with the Order during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."

Was he trying to impress her, or improve her opinion of Tonks? Because those words meant nothing, and they were doing neither. Her cool expression remained.

"I have seen her in action as well and if I recall correctly, I beat her that time. If she wished to try me again, then I'll have no hesitation reminding her about that."

"Come on, she's on our side, Daphne… She's already apologised."

She sighed.

"Yes, quite. I do appreciate your concern, Harry, but it is the principal of it. You don't squirm away from a fight and expect others to skill respect you, and especially people like her who will hang it over you. I'm not letting my first impressions with her be that I'm willing to get bullied and pushed around."

"Daphne, cut it out. I _really_ don't think you need to worry about that right now. There's a lot more going on to be concerned about. Starting something with Tonks is just going to make the Order trust you less. Seriously... lay off it."

Her thought process came screeching to a halt.

He only used that tone when he was telling somone off. She'd heard him use it against Tracey before, but never once to her. He was giving her a warning to stop being pedantic. If anyone else used a tone like that, then she'd gladly accept it as a challenge. But on the rare occasions when _he_ used that tone… it found a way of melting her a little on the inside.

It was so unlike him to ever raise his voice, or act remotely forceful with her. She liked it. Liked it probably more than she'd ever admit to him, or anybody. She brought a hand to her face, pretending to scratch her mouth, but really to try and disguise her shamefully glowing cheeks.

"Hey - I got you something for Christmas!"

She took a breath in an attempt to flush the hormones from her system. It partially worked. When she calmed herself enough to listen to him, she stared disapprovingly at what he'd said.

"Why?"

"Because! You're my…"

He stopped himself suddenly.

She knew why - and it did nothing but add to the heat she was experiencing.

"Because... it is Christmas," he tried again. "And everyone deserves a gift at Christmas. You wouldn't let me get you anything last year, so…"

"I don't have anything for you, I hope you know?" a stranger's voice left her throat.

His face just lit up more. Honestly, he was such a goofy idiot.

"That's fine, honestly! This isn't really a _present_ present anyway, just something I thought you'd like. Or we thought you'd like, Sirius actually gave it to me. He thought it would cheer you up."

He produced from his jacket a golden locket and after a second, coerced her into taking it.

"Apparently it's a Black family heirloom. Sirius doesn't care about any of that, he thought it'd suit you."

She looked at the locket he had produced and found it decorated with a serpent-like S. Glittering, green stones adorning it's doors on either side. It was easy to visualise it as a minuscule snake… more than that, actually, as she got closer she realised that was exactly what it was. So subtle that she might have been imagining it, there were little emeralds placed at the tip of the S to stand in for the snakes eyes.

The whole thing seemed to glow with an aura of prestige and knowledge, she could definitely see why he thought she would like it.

"It's absolutely gorgeous. And it's old… like, _seriously_ old."

"Is that okay?"

She paused before answering. Things were clicked together inside her head, and not all of them she could fully believe.

"You don't know what this is, do you?" she asked him.

He shook his head. She brought the locket closer.

"See that 'S'?"

He nodded.

"That's not just any S, that's _the_ Slytherin S... You can tell by the stylised font and the emeralds encrusted into it. Those are _real_ emeralds, Harry. This isn't a Black family heirloom, this belonged to the Slytherin family. With how old it is, maybe even Salazar himself."

Daphne let out a long breath of amazement.

"Where in _Tartarus_ did he get it from?"

Harry was able to offer no answer and silence fell between them, each lost in their own thoughts. She was sure that he was not nearly as interested in the locket as she was, and had probably saw it as little more than a funny little trinket when he gave it to her. Realty was, she was being suddenly overwhelmed by the uniqueness of the artefact that now lay in her hand.

"So you like it, then?"

When she tried to answer, she found her chest to be breathless.

"Like it? Harry! I cannot take this. This belongs in a museum! It's probably priceless, the amount you get from just pawning it alone… never mind somebody who knows its worth!"

He grimaced plainly at her.

"That doesn't mean 'owt to me," he shook his head. "I'm not arsed about galleons, my parents left me loads. I thought it was nice and I wanted you to have it…" he laughed, "... and now I know it's significance I want you to have it even more."

He really was hopeless.

She had never received such a heartfelt gift before and didn't quite know how to respond to it. There was a building of emotion inside her that she knew she wanted to do something about, but didn't know quite how to act on.

Well... actually, that wasn't entirely true.

"You _idiot_…"

She lurched forward suddenly, surprising both herself and him. Her lips connected to his and they joined together in a kiss.

It wasn't just a one-off peck, either. Her lips touched his tenderly and slowly, he was more than keenly returning her movements. In the time spent apart, their lips had missed each other and were now making up for the lost time.

There's a churning feeling in her gut. The world was falling away. There was just her and him now, and the bed. Her arms tightened, drawing herself closer to him, entranced by the feel of his lips on hers. She inhaled his scent, her mind trying desperately to remember the last time she had him like this.

He gave no resistance as she slipped her mouth slowly open and brought her tongue to lick his lips, which seemed to shock him for a moment. That second didn't last long, before his lips parted and welcomed her into his mouth.

Their tongues brushed against each other in glorious embrace. He was still reasonably stunned by her actions, it was enough for her to take the lead and act as the one for a change. She broke the kiss, very briefly, so she could move around and get a better angle on him. His tongue darted back inside her mouth, exploring. She could feel a warmth spreading through between her legs as her heart began to beat faster. Her mind was starting to go foggy with less than sensible thoughts, and then she became aware of his hand travelling up her waist. Even through the baggy t shirt that he had loaned her, the feelings of his fingers on her skin did something... i_ncredible_ to her. She moaned into his mouth, an act that she knew did certain things for him as well.

Breathing deeply between their kisses, she was struggling to contain the rush of adrenaline making its way through her system.

Why did he have this affect over her?

She didn't know why she moved to this position; she definitely couldn't hold it. Actually, no. Scratch that. She knew exactly why she had done it. Because from this position, he was forced to lean back and she was slowly moving on top of him. His head fell into the pillow and things grew in intensity. Her breathing was starting to come faster, and more raggedly as well. She felt Harry's body shiver against hers, and she could feel him starting to lose control. It must have been hard for him all this time without her.

This was normally the part where she would calm them down, or find some reason to break it off. But she wasn't doing. She had missed all of this. It had been so long since she'd had physical contact - had _his_ contact, the only one that mattered. It gave her everything she wanted. While like this, none of the world suddenly mattered and time did not exist. She was his right now and he could do to her whatever he liked; and she would let him. She'd even thank him for it.

Even through their thick clothes, she felt her chest pressing up against him, who definitely seemed to notice. The grip on her back tightened and his other hand came into her hair, which he used as leverage to force his tongue deeper into her mouth. Her knees buckled. It took everything in her power not to go completely limp on top of him. Oh, how she loved it when he was like that.

She'd already come so far this week, broken so many of her own boundaries and stepped so far out of her comfort zone. She wasn't the woman she wanted to be, nor at this stage could she ever hope to achieve it. There may have been no retribution for her, but there was certainly a lot going on in the other direction. She'd dropped so far from grace and become such a different person, why should _this_ be one situation that she remained stubborn over? She might well go all the way, at this point. Because if not now, then when?

It was Christmas time and they were of-age. She had a genuine connection with him, one that she'd never felt with another person before. The wards were up, so they were trapped in here together. He'd earned it from her at this point and she more than definitely deserved at least one thing going good for her. It was all too perfect not to.

"Harry... I think I'm _ready_..." she spoke impossibly quietly.

Those were not her words; she hadn't said them, but they had definitely come from her mouth. As her hand left his chest and began making its way down to his torso, she was almost as surprised as he was. His hand came down on top hers, stopping it harshly in its tracks.

"We shouldn't…"

His resistance did nothing to stop her, and if anything his assertiveness just intensified her movements. She was truly a slave to her own body now. She wasn't stopping herself, why even would she?

"We can be quiet…?" she offered, speaking in a deep and husky voice that even caught her own ears off guard.

He was considering it. She could tell he wanted it as well, and not just by the look on his face. His hands were still tight against her and from what she felt while on top of him, he was ready to go as much as she were. It was probably only the fact that they were doors away from his godfather and ex-teacher that was stopping him, which was understandable. But apparently, that was one fear he was quick to overcome.

In a motion of ease, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. She thought the urge to blush at the sudden amount of skin she was suddenly seeing - itt was a difficult task. Then all of a sudden, she was being flipped through the air. He brought both hands to her back and rushed her, rolling her to side and climbing on her.

Daphne let out a muffled cry, his movements causing a full paralysing moment for her. Her legs, now shaking, were wrapped around his waist. She could feel how intimate they were. That was what she wanted right now. She wanted him. _All _of him.

Their lips smashed together again, this time he took the lead. He was still using her hair as leverage, using it as a handle to angle her where he wanted. An indescribable heat surged, coming from both herself and, it seemed, him as well. With one hand on his back to steady herself, and another holding the bedframe to make sure they didn't make too much of a racket, she began moving herself against him. And then, after a moment's hesitation, he moved too. And then she moved. And then he did. His much heavier torso pressed into hers and took to replicating her movements. His thrusting was actually succeeding in moving her inches up the bed and back down again with each movement.

Her body was moving on its own now, she was grinding against him and the noises rumbling in her throat were not hers, but belonged to a repressed wild animal deep inside her. She grew cross-eyed with pleasure and gleeful excitement.

He brought his hands to her waist; her oversized tshirt worked as easy access. His fingers made contact with skin and her stomach instinctively retreated it. She moaned sensitively. His hands didn't stop there though - and admittedly slower than she would have liked - they began snaking their way up her navel. Each inch sent a ricochet of pleasure across her body. Her knees buckled and fought to join together, wrapping firmly around his torso in the process.

There was a loud crash, and all of a sudden the door to their room went flying open.

Harry flew backwards impossibly off her, almost as though he had been perched on a hidden broom the entire time. She froze up entirely on the spot, legs still open. Sirius barged his way into the room.

All feelings of pleasure drained rapidly from her and a shameful cloud descended, with a very nasty aftertaste of annoyance at the interruption. Harry glared daggers at their new guest.

"Sirius! Do you _bloody_ min-"

"BURROWS ON FIRE!"

She snapped to look at Sirius. He was mid-panic and didn't even seem to notice the compromising position he'd caught her and his god-son in. Harry did a double take as though he hadn't heard him properly.

"Wha… what?"

"DEATH EATER ATTACK - WHOLE THINGS UP IN FLAMES!" he bellowed again.

That finally caught her attention, as she brought her legs shut and pulled herself into a sitting position. She and Harry exchanged nerve-filled glanced.

"NEED TO GO, NOW!"

He was still for a moment longer as she could basically see the cogs turning behind his head. Then, all at once, he made a break for the door.

"Stay here!"

"HARRY!"

But he was gone. He and Sirius both. Out the door, down the corridor and stamping loudly down the stairs.

The room felt very still in his wake.

Whatever hormones she had been feeling were snapped away in a second. Where she once felt passion, now felt a dullness. The only reassurance she was still alive was the rising and falling of her chest, but everything else had come to a dead stop. Disappointment and a vague feeling of helplessness dotted around her.

Slowly, she forced her mind to the place it needed to be.

"_Death Eater…_" she repeated to herself.

There was an urgency in that that she should definitely concern herself with. She knew this, yet as she brought her feet to the floor and stood up, even an inch of her screamed in protest. The door was left open behind him. She came to the framework but paused before she left. She picked up the mulled wine - or the _Vimto_ as Harry had called it - and brought it with her.

A faint scent of burning was immediately present as soon as she stepped into the hallway. With it came distant rumblings of shouting from downstairs, and not all from voices that she recognised. If there were people down there she didn't know, she definitely shouldn't let herself get seen.

Cautiously, she brought herself to the head of the stairs and sat down, concentrating to make out the voices.

One of them, an older lady, sounded absolutely and heartrendingly distraught as she shouted. Daphne recognised enough of the voices and names to deduce that the Burrow was apparently the Weasley's home. And it was on fire, this close to Christmas...

She swallowed a rising lump in her throat, and brought the wine to her lips for a sip.

_"QUIET! QUIET! EVERYONE, PLEASE!"_ Sirius shouted over the room, bringing the rumbling to a halt.

Tonks must have still been here, as she caught her voice next. Despite Daphne's personal feelings, she couldn't deny it was probably for the best they had so many Aurors on hand.

_"Not all of them, no. But Greyback was definitely with them. He damn near took Bill's bloody face off."_

_"Fenrir Greyback? He's working with them?" _Professor Lupin, who must have also been in the room, asked suddenly.

_"Appears so. Lestrange and Greengrass were with him too. Didn't get a good look at the other ones."_

And there it was.

Every fibre of her being went into rejection mode. She felt her very soul drain from her body and she wanted nothing more in that moment than for the staircase to swallow her up entirely. This felt wrong. Every movement since leaving the bedroom was a movement back closer to _them_. She had come so close to getting what she wanted, so close to getting happy. And yet it was it was them that took it away from her. Again.

They were still here, still in her life. She couldn't escape him. He'd burned through an entire families house to get to her.

Grimmauld Place was not the safe haven she thought it was.

She took another, longer sip of her drink. There was a presence behind her suddenly. Daphne didn't flinch, but nor did she make any effort to greet it.

"You need to remain in hiding."

She struggled to hear the voice over the cries coming from down the stairs. When she responded, it was almost subconsciously.

"They're here because of _me_."

Snape shifted in the shadows behind her.

"Our kind is not welcome here. Us continuing to stay will only complicate matters. It's for the best that we make our leave... Our absence will be the best thing for them, right now."

It took all she could not to break down over the prospect of returning to the castle. To that world of hers. Nonetheless, his logic was sound. The Weasleys needed room and it was because of _her_ father that was so. Maybe they could find the sanctuary here that she could not.

She nodded solemnly.

"Yes... Professor."


	22. Remnants

"_Look_ at this place…"

He was in disbelief. It wasn't his home - not truly, anyway - but he was as heartbroken as if he'd just lost a relative. To think back and to know what this place had been like when he was last here, what it had been like probably mere hours before...

The Burrow was now little more than a smoldering cinder, still with thick plumes of smoke rising from it. Harry stood at the heart of group of official-looking group of wizards, both familiar and strangers to him, all doing surveillance of the area. They had gathered around the large charred, black remains, which stood out in stark and terrifying contrast to the snowy environment engulfing them. As he stared wordlessly at the cinder, he noted the empty gap formed around it from wizards too nervous to get up close.

"Yeah, thanks mate," Ron tutted beside him.

Harry shot him an apologetic look, which he just returned with a sad smile. They were still awake from last night. Everything separating then and now had been pure hell. Grimmauld Place was now overflowing with the Weasleys - and Daphne was long gone. Harry had barely a second chance to sit down and get his mind in check since Sirius barged in on him last night, the wear and tear was starting to show.

"Everyone's okay, though," Ron walked with his hands in his pockets. "Ginny's shaken up, mum won't stop shouting… Actually think Dad's taken it worse, he's barely said anything since it all happened."

A pair of hands suddenly came down on each of their respective shoulders; Sirius had apparated them both here but he'd mostly been lingering back since arriving.

"Gonna pop over to Molly, if that's alright lads?"

The boys nodded and the man took off.

"Is it salvageable or... will you have to move?"

"Oh, salvageable, definitely," Ron nodded. "Could be back in it by Monday with the right spells… so Lupin says. It's more... figuring out what's left, right now."

Harry let out a large exhale of breath, which he watched evaporate into nothing.

That was a far better outcome than he was expecting to hear. An impossibly good outcome, if he was honest. So much so that he didn't put it past Ron to be lying to make things not seem as bad as they were. Then again, it couldn't be denied there was still a lot about magic Harry had yet to learn, so he couldn't necessarily disprove his words either.

They continued to trudge forward in a dreamlike state, through the murmuring crowd of Ministry-Officials and friends-of-friends-of-the-family. Their focus was mostly on their choice of path, never getting too close to the burned up house, while also keeping themselves clear of the deeper snowy patches. They came out into an emptier spot, where the dumbstruck watchers had left a well-clear gap.

At that moment there was a loud crunching sound, akin to the cracking of a whip, and then Hermione and a wizard he didn't recognize apparated in a few feet away ahead.

It took Ron a second to figure out if his eyes were deceiving him.

"What's _she _doing here..?"

Hermione rushed them and dove head-first into a hug with Ron.

"I came as soon as I could!" she gave a partial-shriek. "Is everyone okay!?"

Despite the hug, Ron remained very still and spluttered to find his words.

"Erm, yeah... Lucky you weren't here after all, hehe…" he fained a smile.

Hermione pulled back and began pampering Ron up and down, seemingly checking all of his limbs were indeed still attached. Harry awkwardly swayed on the balls of his feet.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ronald! Everyone made it out okay, right?!"

Ron continued his awkward smile.

"Thought Erald was trapped inside since nobody could find it... turns out the bugger wasn't even at home."

"Is anyone inside right now?"

He shook his head.

"Mad-Eye and Kingsley are going over it for anything they can find on the Death Eaters that attacked. Don't know what they're hoping to find, plus we know who did it."

"Daphne's dad," Harry interjected suddenly.

Ron nodded.

"And Bellatrix Lestrange. The tall bloke too, same one we saw at Borgin and Burkes.."

Harry took a quick scan of the area.

Hermione and Ron still hadn't fully separated from their hug and he felt a familiar, encroaching feeling that he was being a third wheel. This was the best they'd gotten on in months, _this _was their heartfelt reunion, and he certainly didn't want to linger around awkwardly.

It was good, he thought, that at least one small nice thing had come from all this mess.

"Lupin, is he still here?"

Ron's head snapped to the side, almost looking surprised that Harry was still here.

"Erm, ahh…" he squinted, taking a second before answering. "Prolly round back with Bill. He got torn up pretty bad... Fair warnin', Mr Diggory is there with them. They're waitin' on a few others."

Harry gave a polite nod and set off in the indicated direction without a second look back.

He hadn't had seen much of Mr Diggory since the Triwizard tournament; it was pretty public knowledge - and rather understandable - that he didn't like Harry much now after his involvement in Cedric's death. This was even after Voldemort's return was made official and his name was cleared, so it was probably a hopeless situation to try and change. Harry understood the situation and harbored no ill will towards him, and in this circumstance he'd much prefer seeing him again over more of Ron and Hermione's drama.

He brought himself around the house and spotted the group he was looking for. Lupin and Tonks were talking with Mr Diggory and a noticeable, young-looking woman in a uniform. They didn't immediately noticed his intrusion, and as he grew closer he overheard Lupin sounding ruffled about something.

_"- I just don't see why we have to drag their names through the dirt even more just because of one bad - !"_

"Wotcher, Harry! Come be social!"

Tonks caught his eye and ushered him over, just as Lupin went silent. Harry gave a sheepish smile as he joined them, which was returned by all minus Mr Diggory, who simply nodded in acknowledgement.

Then his eyes fell on exactly what the heated conversation was crowded around. Leaning against the charred up remains of the house, the grotesque remains of Bill Weasley were crouched on the floor, still breathing. Ginny sat dabbing at his face with some bizzare-looking cloth. Bills eyes, though barely recognisable between the large slashes on his face, fell on him as he joined the group. The injured man offered a slight wave, which Harry was too taken-back to return.

"Bill…?"

Then the woman in uniform stepped towards him; the first thing he noticed was the brilliant white hair she had, despite her age.

"Don't mind him! Looks much worse than it is… Harry Potter! It's nice to meet you, I've read a lot!" she smiled taking his hand. "I'm Officer Lobosca, vise-head of the Beast Division's Werewolf Capture Unit at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

For a split second the combination of her hair and uniform distracted Harry almost completely from Bill's injuries; she was far more beautiful than any Ministry Official he'd met before.

"Nice to meet you…" he said absently, then after a moment eventually heard her words and asked, "...what's happened to him? And the… the Beast Division? What're they doing here?"

Officer Lobosca gave a heavy sigh, shooting a look down to Bill.

"Well... any incidents involving Werewolves and I get sent over to get involved as a diplomat…" she spoke uncomfortably, "... legality and everything."

Harry looked uncertainty at Lupin.

"Was he bitten… ?"

Lupin was quick to chime in to Officer Lobosca's remark.

"Now, now, Chiara, you know as _well _as I that what happened to Bill was the work of Death Eaters, _not _the work of Werewolves."

Mr Diggory stepped forward identically, cutting him off from Officer Lobosca.

"And, Mr Lupin... Death Eaters who happens to _be _a Werewolf _do _fall under our jurisdiction, as well. Or would you rather they have sent over Mr. Lee to deal with the situation instead?"

Lupin didn't seem entirely happy about that prospect, but remained passive aggressive towards him.

"There's no need for that, Amos... I'm just concerned that registering this as an official werewolf attack is going to send the media into a lynch mob. It's unfair to allow an entire community to get chastised because of the actions of _one _individual… especially when that individuals actions had nothing to do with the fact they are a werewolf!"

Harry almost never saw Lupin raise his voice - the seriousness of the conversation he was inadvertently a part of now occurred to him. Lobosca moved forward suddenly to touch Lupin's arm.

"Remus, you know I'm not going to let that happen!"

Amos tried raising his hand to cut Lupin off, but the man simply shouted over him.

"Will the identities of the Death Eaters also make their ways to the Profit, I wonder?" he asked, unrelenting. "No! Of course not! Because the Ministry protects their own! But they're more than happy to throw us filthy half-breeds under the bus!"

Harry took a step forward, wondering if it was his place to intervene. Part of him wanted to help his friend, the other part of him morbidly wanted to hear more. Then he caught a look off Ginny, who, for whatever reason, was telling him to let it play out. Begrudgingly, Harry remained on the sidelines.

"I assure you, my friend!" Mr Diggory tried. "If solid and substantial evidence is given to the identities of the Death Eaters who attacked, both the Daily Profit and the Auror office will be in full eff-"

"You need evidence to prove Death Eaters involvement, but not Werewolves!? Why are _terrorists _being given more rights than the sick?"

Tonks, who had remained surprisingly silent on the sidelines through all this, took a position opposite Officer Lobosca.

"Calm down, honey... You know he's not meaning it like that."

"Remus, it's just protocol! You _know _the situation is different for us! I'm going to do everything I can."

Officer Lobosca's words didn't seem to physically calm him down, but he at last fell silent on the subject.

Tonks leaned to Lupin and whispered something to him, which he replied to and the two went into inaudible conversation.

"Chiara, my dear, I believe our work is about done here?"

If Officer Lobosca had animal ears, they'd very much be in the downward position right now. She flashed Harry a sympathetic smile as she moved back over to where Mr Diggory was stood.

"Sorry, sir… Catching up got the better of me..." she turned to address the group as a whole, "Billy, I'm… so sorry that it's taken _this _for us to see each other again. You guys all keep safe. Sure you don't need extra hands tidying up?"

Charlie, whom Harry had only ever met twice before and if he was being perfectly honest, hadn't noticed was lingering around, suddenly boasted a loud laugh.

"We probably could, but you have work to do! Don't let us worry you!"

This brought Lupin back from his conversation and he reapproached Officer Lobosca, taking her hand eagerly.

"Ignore Charlie, listen, Chiara - You've been an angel, as always. Bill will be fine with us. Thank you for giving us your time. Best of luck writing up your report."

The woman gave a grateful smile, looking relieved that Lupin wasn't truly mad at her. She flashed Harry another smile, one he was finally able to reciprocate, and made her leave with Mr Diggory.

As he watched them go, Harry found Ginny to be the closest in his vancity and he leaned down to her.

"So… is Bill, you know… Like Lupin, now?" "

Ginny sighed heavily, gazing down at her broken brother.

"We don't know yet."

Harry frowned.

"Shouldn't he be…? Be in St Mungos… or… something?"

Bill mumbled something inaudible. Ginny gave no answer.

Through the man's mutilation, which Harry could only look at in short bursts, he could see the familiar jarred expression Ron had not a moment earlier. There was something quite haunting to him about seeing such a genuine, human emotion under such bloody and malformed imagery.

Harry took a slow step back from the situation. This was the tip pointed and things were beginning to get a bit much for him now. It wasn't just Bill. Everyone was a mess. Everyone had the same look on their face. It was much worse than everyone was pretending it was. Lupin and Ginny looked at the end of their mental tether and even from the other side of the house and through the crowd, Harry could still hear Mrs Weasley's sobbing cries.

If only he had been here for them.

If he and Sirius were here they could have done something; even if it was just giving them more numbers to fight with. Death Eaters would have been no match for all of them at once.

This wasn't his fault, nor would he allow himself to think like that, but he _could _definitely have helped.

Why was it the second anything good happened to him - anything remotely enjoyable - the universe had it's way of snatching it back off him?

"That was Chiara Lobosca. Fitty isn't she?"

In his self deprecating daydream, Tonks had approached him from behind, wandering forward with her hands in her pockets.

"An old school friend of mine, Charlie and Bill's," she continued. "Doesn't mean any harm, really. She actually introduced me and Remus. They bash heads occasionally but she'd definitely on our side."

Harry did his best to acknowledge her, though he was a million miles away from the conversation.

"She seemed… nice."

"Oh she's lovely. Used to be a proper shy girl, really came out of her shell when she started working with people. She's a werewolf, too."

Harry did a double take.

"That officer was… ?"

"Mmhmm. 'S why she got the job. Nobody knows werewolves better than other werewolves. And in this case… well, once a person is bitten, they retain a unique connection with the one who bit them. Almost makes them kin to one another in a way, Chiara's practically a little sister to Remus..."

"It was _Lupin_ that bit her!?"

"Don't be daft!" Tonks scolded him. "No... Fenrir Grayback, he did. _He's_ the one that bit Lupin when he was a kid. He was also the werewolf that attacked last night."

Harry chewed the inside of his lip.

"And now Bill… is he going to be...?"

Tonks shook her head.

"We…" she sighed," … don't know. We just don't know. Grayback was in human form when he attacked. There's probably _some _Werewolf containimation, but if it's enough to make him have transformations… well, we're going to have to wait for a full moon to find that out."

The whole time, Harry had kept his eyes planted firmly in the distance. It wasn't Tonks he was finding it difficult to look at, he was just struggling maintaining a tether to a social personality. He wanted nothing more than to crawl up in bed and be left alone; he was tired, guilt-ridden and his tolerance was dropping by the minute.

"I should have been here," he said breathlessly.

Though he couldn't see her, he practically heard the sound of Tonks eyes rolling.

"Oh, shut it with the _Chosen One_ bull…" she spat surprisingly loud in his direction, "This isn't about you! You were at home, enjoying Christmas with your girlfriend. You can't be the hero all the time, Harry. You're more mature than to think like that."

The Dursley inside him wanted to retreat at her harsh words, but the newer, more mature Harry respected her bluntness.

Her words went unmatched and the two stood together in a still silence.

It had began snowing, though Harry was long past the ability to feel cold. He'd began shivering subconsciously, but at no point made any effort to shield himself from the rising wind.

They were separated from the crowd of randoms by the Burrow situated between them, but even at this distance the murmurings, whispers and unmistakable shrill voice of Rita Skeeter could still be heard. Compared to the merciless situation he and his friends were facing, he almost wished he had remained in the sea of people and been swarmed by reporters. A little dose of Chosen One euphoria would go a long way to distance himself from this relentless reality he was facing.

Then there was another loud cracking sound, Harry and Tonks turned and saw a new group had apparated into the scene.

"That'll be the St Mungos crew…" Tonks told him, "... Me and Emcee are giving them an Auror escort to make sure Bill doesn't go wandering off, or worse. Can you tell the others we're sorry we can't help with clean up?"

Without looking at her, Harry nodded.

"'Course."

He heard a long sigh to his right and knew that was his cue to turn around, but he couldn't quite find the strength in himself to break his dissociative trance.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

He heard the footsteps of Tonks walking away, he was unable to return her greeting.

"Yeah. You too."

His eyeline had come to rest back in the area near Bill. He had originally zoned completely out from the world around him, but had now spotted Sirius moving through the crowd.

Moving on reflect, he began towards him.

"Moony!"

Sirius and Lupin crashed into each other, each man holding the other tightly in their arms. It reminded Harry of how he and Ron would greet each other after a long summer holidays.

The two held their tight embrace for a long second before Sirius pulled back. "Was it him? Was he here?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

Lupin nodded, with an expression on his face that Harry had never seen the man wear before. Total and unbridled fear.

"I saw him. Hadn't aged a day, _exactly _how I remembered him... Eyes and all."

In the years Harry had known him for, he'd never seen Lupin look this way. He hadn't been this way in front of Tonks or Snape, it was only in front of Sirius he had let his gaurd down.

Acting before speaking, Harry intruppted the delicate exchange.

"You're talking about Fenrir Greyback, aren't you?"

Lupin's head snapped to the side and all at once, Sirius and he separated, both men regaining their composure. Lupin swallowed hard before speaking.

"What do you know about Fenrir Greyback?"

Harry shook his head innocently.

"He bit you, that Officer who was just here and now he's bitten Bill... Who is he?"

Lupin let out a large puff of breath, looking like he'd just been asked to read the dictionary backwards. Rubbing his newly-bearded chin, he took a clear scan of the area before moving closer in to Harry and Sirius.

Harry felt a hand on his back and he was being lead further away from the masses.

"Well… he is perhaps the most infamously savage werewolf there is alive today. He regards it as his personal mission in life to bite and contaminate as many witches and wizards as possible. Many believe he wants to infect enough people and create that many werewolves that someday they'll outnumber magic folk… Voldemort promised him fresh blood in return for his services. Since then the amount of werewolf bites have increased dramatically. Greyback… well, he… he specializes in children. Bites them young and then raises them, bringing them up them to hate wizards."

An unpleasant swelling occurred in the pit of Harry's stomach. He recalled seeing Fenrir Grayback once, in the same room as Daphne and Malfoy, in Borkin and Burkes around the start of the year. To know that she'd even been in the same _room _as that man…

He suddenly and quite quickly regretted sending her back to Hogwarts on her own.

"He bit Chiara and I… We managed to get away. Others aren't as lucky. "

"Is that why he attacked the Burrow? Was he trying to get you and just he couldn't at Grimmauld Place?"

"No, that was…" he sighed, "... probably just a coincidence. Just about everyone in the Order is a family-friend of the Weasleys. They were an easy target and one we should have seen coming. Not to mention Arthur has been leading the arrests against many undercover Death Eaters… I'm sorry you had to see me annoyed back then, my boy. You see, because Grayback is the only Death Eater we were able to provide evidence against, Amos is trying to swing this as a purely werewolf attack. Keeps him in the clear and… eh… _unproblematic_, that way."

Everything Harry had heard about Amos Diggory would paint an opposite picture of him. Was making such a Fudge-esque move really something he would resort to?

"B-but didn't you see Bellatrix and Daphne's dad as well?"

"We saw them - yes. But that doesn't mean much in court. Especially with Greengrass being an official in the Ministry..."

Sirius coughed loudly, reminding them that he was still part of the conversation, "Plus... doesn't exactly take a _lot _for the Ministry to jump on the discrimination bandwagon."

Lupin nodded solemnly.

"It was probably for the best the kids weren't over. If there was a house full of students running around, then we can only imagine what would have…"

"Let's not dwell on what-ifs and could-have-beens though!" Sirius cut him off. "Plus! You're also forgetting my psycho cousin was here too! She's far more dangerous than any werewolf that ever lived."

Mister Weasley entered the scene.

"I am inclined to agree with you, Sirius."

Harry looked up suddenly and saw Mister Weasley entering the scene. He, somehow, looked in a worse state than he had after the snake attack last year. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was pale, the man looked like he'd aged twenty years over night. Harry instinctively took a step towards him with a lot to say and apologise for, but his words failed to make themselves known.

"We're thankful Remus and Tonks had just arrived or things could have ended quite differently," he continued, "... Bill could have been killed if you'd not come to his rescue in time. For that, I will be eternally grateful. Now, Molly gives the count as there being four attackers, Ron gives it five. Best we cover our bases and go for five. Greengrass didn't have his mask on, ruddy idiot... and Bella's screeching can be heard a mile off. The others will have to be educated guesses."

The name droppings gave Harry the sudden push he needed to find his voice again.

"But, hang on - if you saw Mr Greengrass without his mask, isn't that enough evidence? Or to at least make the Ministry see it was a Death Eater attack?"

Mister Weasley simply stared at him blankly, Lupin decided to answer for him.

"Would be our word against his. Utterly useless without any kind of physical evidence. And plus… then it would ruin their chances to spread more half-breed propaganda."

His words did nothing other than further Harry's sickened feeling. It wasn't quite the same nausea he got from when his scar hurt, but more akin to the anxiety which overtook him when he knew he was going to be in trouble. It might not affect him directly, but any injustice served to his friends was something Harry took very seriously. If Amos had his way, alarm bells were ringing in his head that told him the attack on the Burrow was just going to be the start of their trouble.

"That's not fair…"

Sirius crossed his arms beside him.

"You know, I'd put a wager on Knott being one of the other two."

"Probably a safe bet... If we ever find Snyde, she could probably confirm for us all of them."

They carried on their conversation, discussing in detail theories about who was involved, but Harry had again zoned out.

This was too much for him.

His thought process was being to slow to a halt and under his jacket he'd began violently shivering from the cold, though he was mostly unaware of that himself. One thing after another was building up against him: the guilt of not being here to help, the frustration at the Ministry and media, helplessness that he couldn't help his friend, it was all combining into a tightening knot in his stomach that was begging to be ripped out. He didn't know if he was angry or wanted to burst into tears. He was definitely feeling something, but in his sleep deprived state he struggled to tell which emotion from which.

The universe always did this. He had a few positive days where things actually worked out, now they had to be balanced out by everything going to shit at once. Did he not deserve the right to be happy? Surely he had earned a break at this point? Why was it always one thing after another, new back-stabbing problems arising from nowhere with no end in sight. What had he done to be at the center point of all of this mess?

Cracking noises reverberated through the snow and there was suddenly a large group of people appearing one by one nearby. Lupin moved to greet them.

"The cavalry. Let's get this mess over and done with."

A hand came to Harry's shoulder, stopping him.

"Go ahead, Moony. Gonna have a word with Harry first. God-dad to god-son."

Lupin took his cue and moved off to meet the new people, most of which Harry didn't recognize at all.

He was grateful for the new-found privacy, but knew the hallmarks he'd be finding accompanied it weren't going to be cheerful ones.

"Officer Lobosca was quite fit, wasn't she? I always did have a thing for birds in uniform.. and a werewolf at that! Be good to have a playmate for my doggy form."

A thin smile made its way to Harry's lips; his attempt at a laugh.

"Though, I could be a little old for her tastes, … but I'm sure if Remus can pull it off with Tonks, my gorgeous mug'll do just fine. You know, it's funny, Tonks rather affectionately calls her their _bitch _on the inside. My cousin always did have an affinity for puns…"

The silence was loud around them. The cold was beginning to seep in through their souls of their shoes.

"You didn't call me back to talk about girls, did you?"

Sirius gave a troubled noise.

"Well - Yes and No… Does that answer give any indication to what I'm about to ask?"

Harry paused.

"Because we're alone… I imagine something to do with Daphne?"

When Sirius moved around to speak to him, Harry knew he was being impolite by not meeting his eye-contact. But even if he were in a better mood, there was something about the energy between them that told him this was not going to be a pleasant talk.

"Ministry wants to label this a werewolf attack… We're hopeless to change that. But now… if she went on record and gave a testimony that confirmed otherwise - maybe even name-dropped some active Death Eaters - that'd be rather difficult for them to ignore, even for the higher ups."

There it was.

The second he felt Sirius hand on his shoulder, he somehow knew it was coming to this.

He was being asked to choose between a rock and a hard place. What he was being asked was impossible, and the only response he could muster was a poor attempt at expressing that.

"She wouldn't, even if I asked her. She doesn't want to take a stand against the Death Eaters, she just wants to away from them."

Sirius moved in, now more passionate when he spoke.

"I would never ask you - or her - to do anything you're uncomfortable with… But, at the same time… it'd certainly go a very long way in convincing the Order about her loyalty. I think you should consider _very _carefully the fragile situation you two have found yourselves in before crossing out possibilities. No is no and I get that, I do. But... well, she's never going back to them and _realistically _it's only a matter of time before she joins the Order… Maybe it's better to just bite the bullet early on and help out the people around her - help them out in maybe the same way she wants them to help her?"

Harry's mouth was dry.

The annoying part was he actually agreed with most of what he was hearing. Sady, that didn't change the reality he knew he was facing.

"Even if I asked… she's too scared of them. She's only _just _started talking to me about this stuff, I couldn't ask her to do something like that. I'm sorry, Sirius. Tell Lupin I'm sorry as well."

It was all he could do to express the hopelessness of his situation to his godfather. It would take a lot of explaining for him to understand their situation, one he probably couldn't do justice even if he was feeling up to talking.

Sirius's stern voice didn't halt.

"It's important for her to realize that this grey area she _believes _to occupy, just... simply doesn't exist, Harry. Not in this war. Every day that she doesn't take a stand against them - every day she remains silent with information about them - is a day she's aiding their cause. I know people take effort, I do, but time is _not _a luxury that we have. She's made her decision and now she needs to follow through with it."

His godfather had been suspiciously supportive this entire time, now Harry knew why.

He was on the Order's side, not theirs. He'd been putting on a mask to hide how he truly felt. He saw Daphne as nothing more than a tool for them to use. His concern was over whose side she was on, not her welfare.

"Wasn't it you who told me the world isn't just split into good people and Death Eaters?" Harry snapped back. "That people aren't just '_good' _or '_evil'_?"

He looked hard at his Godfather.

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing to her? Forcing her to fight?"

Finally locking eyes together, Sirius met him with an equally frustrated look of his own. It was obvious he wasn't enjoying what he had to say, but the fact he had the nerve to anyway was not something Harry could just let pass.

"Yes, but…" he sighed pathetically, "... the shades of grey that she considers safe - well, they're lethal! She can't remain in between, she needs her eyes opening to this before it's too late. It's not a matter of _if _she joins the Order… she _needs _to. I'm prepared to wait for her to make this decision on her own, but everyday that she delays, she's close to the other side. She's a valuable asset and the Order can't wait for her to be _comfortable _with that."

"That's not fair - she's come to us for protection, we can't use her like that!" Harry tried.

"We're at war, Harry... They're not often _fair_… " Sirius drew out his breath like it was poisoning him. "As you, yourself has very much discovered... Even if she doesn't want to be, she's a part of this now. She can't just sit on the sidelines. She lost that right when she made the decision to come to us."

Harry was struggling to filter what to say. There was a _lot _he suddenly found himself wanting to say, but knew very little of it would help their situation and even less of it would be family-friendly. Sirius's tone came with a desperate plea, one he found hard to be annoyed at. Realistically, he knew everything he was being told was true. That's all there was to it.

Maybe he'd been too naive before, or maybe it was being around Daphne that had distracted him. Or maybe he was just being hopeful. So he was left wordless and uselessly annoyed, with nothing but the daunting prospects of their conversation hanging over him.

"I'm not your enemy, Harry," Sirius began again, with a much gentler voice. "Nor am I Daphne's. I want nothing but the best for both of you, but I'm not blinded to the situation we're all in. The others… they're going to be a lot less polite to you about all of this. Be prepared for that. And get Daphne ready for the idea of working against her father, because it's _going _to happen."

Harry pushed the air from his lungs. For some reason, his breath no longer made a poof of smoke as it came out.

"So what you're saying is... if she's not with us… then she's against it?"

Sirius met him in equal dismay, the sinister truth of that question already obvious to them both.

"That's... certainly how Mad-Eye will see the situation, I'm sure."

He was being given an ultimatum. Not even an ultimatum, actually. Because that involves a choice in the matter. He was being _told _to turn Daphne to their side. And he couldn't argue with it, because this was exactly what he'd been hoping for. This was the help they were seeking. They couldn't help Daphne unless she was all in on their side, that's all there was to it. Why would the Order go out of their way to help an emotional Death Eater with daddy issues when they got nothing back in return?

It was all about sides now. The word felt dirty in Harry's head. They only wanted each other. When they got together, _sides _was never a part in it.

"Where is she now?" asked Sirius.

Harry took a second to swallow before answering.

"Hogwarts," his voice cracked. "I'm going back with her when we're done. I'm sorry but... she needs me right now. I wouldn't be able to enjoy Christmas knowing she was alone."

He and Sirius met eyes again and thankfully, whatever hostilities had arisen were now gone.

Sirius brought his arms together, crossing them in front of his chest.

"I understand. Plenty more Christmas' to be had together. And you're more than welcome to bring her back next time, I'm sure we'll have a much better time together with some preparation notice."

He offered him the weakest smile.

"Cheers…"

"Who knows, maybe you'll get to finish unwrapping her box next time?" Sirius chuckled.

Harry frowned, missing the indication his humor behind it.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, decking her halls?"

"Wha…?"

"Mistletoe only gets you a kiss - should I presume there was a full tree in there with you?"

Finally, and way too late, Harry caught onto Sirius' meanings.

"SIRIUS - !"

The man walked ahead of him, laughing up a storm.

"SLING YER 'OOKS, YOU LOT! LET'S DIVE IN! FIRST TO SECOND FLOOR GETS TO PICK THE CLEARING SONG!"


	23. Divine Intervention

Compared to her last time here, though she definitely was not comfortable, now was at least able to appreciate the Headmasters office for the feast-for-the-eyes that it was. Dumbledore's office was a large and interesting room, with eye-catching and obscure objects dotted around it that kept her to giving double glances back. She could have spent hours properly examining the random artifacts if given the chance. She was sitting in a real piece of history, that much was sure. Even under the circumstances, she could appreciate what it was, and that it was oddly reassuring, being buried so deeply in things she considered her speciality. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be in a place she recognised as a comfort zone.

The last time she'd been in this room had been an emotional mess. Now, although her breathing was fast and shallow and her heart was doing all kinds of somersaults, she was okay. She was confident in both herself and her situation.

Professor Dumbledore was looking unusually grave at her. Maybe it was just because this was her first time up close with him that she could remember, but nothing about the man before her resembled the upbeat wizard that gave the start of term speeches.

It was easier this time around to explain her side of things. Between her breakdown to Harry and having it forced out of her with veritaserum, she felt her voice beginning to sound like a broken record. Despite this, she was unable to meet the Headmasters eye as she spoke and instead spent most of the time staring at her knees. When she finished her story, he merely continued to stare at her in silence. There was a long stillness before he eventually broke the silence.

"Your tale is a tough one to believe, Miss Greengrass."

She looked quickly up at him.

"It's the truth, Headmaster. My father is unaware of my change of heart - so to speak - so I still have access to my Gringotts account. I could easily pay for the protection that I am requesting."

He cleared his throat suddenly.

"That shouldn't be necessary, my dear. Hogwarts will always open its doors to those in need, regardless of circumstance. And you wish for your new stance to remain secret, I take it?"

She pushed out a long breath.

"If my father or the other Death Eaters know what I've done then they will most definitely kill me. They'd find a way, even inside the castle. And if my father can't get to me then he'll just use my sister… On the topic, I was going to ask about the possibility of removing her from his custardy, as well?"

"Now, that's quite a different matter… " Professor Dumbledore shook his head, "I'm afraid that unless young Astoria came to us herself with similar claims, we can't remove her from her family based on no evidence."

"She would never speak against him. Is there nothing that can be done?"

"Well, I do imagine that if you could provide solid evidence of your father's actions against the Ministry, and of his involvement with the Death Eaters, then we would have no choice but to take her in. But - I'm sure you are aware of what that would mean for him, also?"

Daphne breathed.

"Then you will protect her?"

He nodded.

"Of course."

Her expression did not falter.

"My father's comeuppance has been a long time coming. I will think of your words, Headmaster."

It was subtle, but she could tell he was taken back by her words. If she hadn't mentally prepared herself for this moment, she probably would have been as well. Such a dangerous statement was a rare thing for her to manage.

"Very well," he nodded again, slowly. "The staff and Aurors will support you as much as we can. Your dormitory is available to you as a permanent residence, should you wish it. But depending on the longevity of your stay, it might seem more suitable to find you a larger room amongst the staff quarters?"

She thought about it for a moment. It was difficult to think only about where she was sleeping, with all the other things running through her head. While a larger, nicer bedroom certainly sounded nice, it was in the opposite direction of the life she wanted.

"I would like to continue my school life as uninterrupted as I can, thank you, Headmaster. Maybe once I've graduated, that would then be appropriate."

The Headmaster seemed suddenly amused by her words, and proceeded to pull her on it.

"You believe the war will still be going on by the end of your seventh year?"

She did not share his enthusiasm.

"I know these people. They'll never stop. Not until you and everyone who opposes them is dead."

Her words came with an air of finality about them that seemed to signal the end of their conversation. Professor Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and gestured for her to rise up. She did, and found her knees a lot weaker than she was expecting. Taking a second to stabilize herself against his desk, she angled her way out and bowed to him appreciatively.

"Thank you for your time, Headmaster Dumbledore."

He met her with a nod, but it was not the grandfatherly one that she was used to seeing him with.

"Quite. Have a good Christmas, Miss Greengrass. Do pull the door to on your way out."

She nodded again, apprehensive, and took her leave of the room. Even with the majority of the portraits asleep, she couldn't shake the feeling this entire time she was being examined under a microscope, and by much more than just the Headmaster himself.

She crossed through the corridor and down the Golden Eagle staircase. Harry was waiting for her outside. He rushed to meet her, looking on edge,

"How'd it go?"

A moment later, she was able to tell him.

"He's a lot older in person."

His face scrunched up as he tried to decipher if she was joking or not. She threw him to the back of her mind.

"It went well. He offered me and Astoria protection in exchange for outing our father."

"Seriously?"

She nodded silently.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I told him that I would think about the matter. He doesn't trust me very much. Which is smart of him, really. Wasn't expecting that. But it's a caution that I can respect."

Daphne then took the lead and together they glided down the dark corridor impossibly quietly. Harry said something after that, but she wasn't listening. Her mind was retreating into it's peaceful seclusion.

What was this heavy heart and an aura of sadness that still refused to budge inside her? She had done the difficult thing and now was in the clear, but as they moved deeper into the castle she could feel her mood turning with it. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Things were supposed to be easier now. What if this wasn't the way to improvement? She had sacrificed so much over the past few days, but currently she barely felt any different.

She couldn't afford to start doubting herself now. Her indecision had done nothing but ruin things for her. She was past that stage of her life.

As they walked, they were careful not to disturb the mood. The few students that remained in the castle would be down in the Great Hall at this time, so this was one of the fleeting occasions they could walk together without issue. She had never seen the castle quite so empty. She'd been out at night, of course, fulfilling her Inquisitorial and Prefect duties, but seeing it like this was different. The castle had never looked so dead before. The corridors were particularly dark; the torches had long having been extinguished by the still strong, icy winds outside.

They still had a little bit of time before the new term started. The path ahead wasn't easy but she had finally taken the leap. Things would start to improve now. They were still in the holidays and for while they lasted, she and Harry wouldn't have to fret as much about having to see each other.

She edged her way closer to him, sealing them together as she brought her hand to his elbow. He noticed her arm and gave a light chuckle.

A lot had happened to interfere with the mood, but it was still Christmas. She owed it to herself to enjoy this time while she had it.

"It's bloody fre-"

"Would you like to get some food together?"

* * *

"It appears the odds have shifted infinitely to our favour."

Dumbledore's head jerked suddenly and unnaturally, swapping it's attention to the source of the voice meters behind him. His face collapsed with a jaded manner.

"I take it you heard all of that, then… ?" he uttered with a tired sigh.

Severus brought himself confidentiality from the darkness.

"Miss Greengrass making the decision to act against her father is nothing short of a monumental victory. Others with her similar mindset will now surely follow. She shall prove to be a valuable ally."

"I'm not sure I share your levels of enthusiasm," he said simply after a moment, confirming his suspicions.

The air that surrounded the Headmaster was very different. Without him saying anything, Severus could already sense they were operating on completely different wavelengths. Despite sitting opposite him, Albus Dumbledore never looked further away.

If his countenance hadn't caught him off guard, then his words were certainly enough to do it. In fact, the whole aura the Headmaster was giving off was precisely the opposite of what he had been expecting. Disappointed, and more than a little confused, Severus brought his hands through the air in a gesture around them.

"Need I remind you that this whole operation was _your _idea, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head simply.

"The girl is on her own side and no one else's. She doesn't care about the politics or ethics. She cares about which side gives her and Harry the best deal. She'll turn to whoever offers her a better life."

The casual nature of his words didn't match the harshness of the implications that came with them. Severus frowned, and gave a useless attempt to translate his statement into something he agreed with. He couldn't come up with anything.

"Then, I think we should make sure _ours _is the most appealing to her, don't you?"

The Headmaster rose his head sharply, causing him to fall silent. Dumbledore's expression was determined and without compromise. It made the next words that left his mouth next all the more condemning.

"Given the opportunity, she would stab us in the back if she believed it could guarantee her safety. She's in it for herself. She cannot be trusted."

He felt his stomach begin to plummet. As he searched for the right retort, his words came out slowly and with the same sort of care he would use if talking to a dangerous creature.

"Not if we give her everything she wants... Then she won't go looking for it elsewhere. She could be the bridge we need to end this war, Headmaster."

"No, she can't be," he sounded for the first time as though he was equally as disappointed by his words as Severus was, "She's self-important and emotional. Daphne Greengrass is by no means the first Death Eater to switch their allegiances and act as a double agent, nor shall she be the last. I'm sorry, Severus. I know how much you were relying on this, but she is too much of a liability. We should make efforts to terminate her and Harry's involvement immediately."

He stared deeply at the man before him

"That's because she's a child, not a soldier. Children take time. If she could be turned, she could do things that I am not capable of. The _advantages _she would provide us with..."

Dumbledore turned away, painfully, looking as though each word he was saying was dealing a physical blow to him.

"Yes, well... I'm wondering if that is the time that we have..."

There was an unmistakable air of fear in his tone.

At this cue, Severus took the opportunity to reach into his mind, but what he felt there was enough to turn his blood cold. They were indeed of differing opinions on the subject but quite to that extent, he had not been prepared for. He knew instantly this would be an impossible fight to win.

Finally, after what felt like far longer than necessary, he was able to fumble a response.

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore moved suddenly, sitting forward in his seat and bringing his fingers to interlock themselves. His tone remained unchanged.

"We're reaching the end of the line. The world around us is nearing a drastic rebirth and we may not be here long enough to prevent it. Dark times lay ahead, that much is certain."

There was another long silence, only ever interrupted by light noises coming from the phoenix in the corner.

"We both know that Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me."

"Headmaster…" Severus began with a tone that brought heavy irony with it, "The Dark Lord does not expect Draco to actually _succeed_. This task is merely punishment for his father's failings. Slow torture for him and Narcsissa while they watch him tear apart and pay the price of failure."

"Correct. And the price of such will surely be his death. The same goes for when Miss Greengrass fails to deliver Harry Potter to him."

"I will protect her when that time comes," he answered roughly.

"Oh, shall so will I - I assure you that."

Again, he spoke with a tone so casual he might as well have been discussing bad weather. But his eyes managed to pierce his soul in a way that they often did. It was the only indication that he was truly taking the conversation as seriously as he were.

There was a short pause, but it was evident the older man had no intention of following up his cryptic proclamation.

"Only the two of them succeeding their missions will spare them," he tried, "Draco is as good as dead and Grayback has his sights on Daphne, he told me such himself. It's imperative we get her away. Draco is too far gone, but she can still turn."

Dumbledore's cursed hand, blackened and burned, was raised in polite denial.

"It is Tom's will for me to die and for young Harry to fall into his possession. Then the school will fall entirely under his control. That much cannot be changed. Whether Draco and Daphne are responsible for it or not is irrelevant, but they will both certainly die if the deed is not done. That leaves only one option…"

Severus squinted in harsh disbelief of the old man.

"You're not suggesting letting them _succeed_, are you?"

He seemed to muse the idea in good spirits.

"In a way... From a certain point of view, actually, yes. I shall not be dying by Draco's hand, but I shall still die. Voldemort, in turn, will praise him for it. Harry will avoid his grasp as he ever does, but not without Daphne giving her earnestly to stop him."

Again, Severus struggled in following his words.

"You _want _her to act against us?"

When he did not answer immediately, it was an answer in itself.

"The reason Tom Riddle was able to rise to power all those years ago was his cunning silver tongue. Violence may be his favoured way of getting what he wants, but I assure you he has plenty more weapons at his disposal. It is in our best interest if she does. She will survive, and by doing so she will bridge us a path straight to Voldemort."

Severus struggled, on the verge of speech but unable to find the right articulation of his feelings. Instead, he twisted his neck around to check the door, then remained silent for a while.

"You aren't suggesting we double cross her? Use her as an unwilling pawn?"

This time when he was silent, it plunged the room into an unforgiving and formidable mood.

"There is another way," he tried quickly, "We can work with her, she has the heart for it! Why are you so determined that she cannot be trusted? I have seen in her head, I've been there for her, I know her intentions!"

For the first time tonight, he heard the Headmaster's voice turn truly bitter.

"Miss Greengrass's loyalty depends on her relationship with Harry, and that is the problem. She is not going to _have _a relationship with Harry. When that time comes she will turn against us with the ferocity that Slytherin house has become known for."

He was beginning to become sick of his cryptic tongue. Uselessly, he waved his head in a plea motion.

"What does that _mean…_? "

Dumbledore took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Severus didn't have to read his mind - the conflict he was experiencing was evident enough in his words.

"There will come a time... when Harry Potter must be told something. A secret - one that will change the tide of the entire war. I will share it with you now, but you must wait until Lord Voldemort is at his most vulnerable before you repeat it."

When he did decide to peek behind the Headmaster's eyes, he found his soul rolling and crashing in conflict. Discord between his heart and mind boiling it to the brink. He could feel the darker turn they were racing towards.

His breaths became shallow. As they began this conversation, there was a daunting feeling that tonight would be quite unlike the other meetings they had. Now he was about to find out why. What could be bad enough to make the great Albus Dumbledore conflicted? What news could be so world-shattered that it made the world's greatest and most mysterious wizard look like hell hath frozen over?

"Must be told _what_?"

Then, in a hushed whisper, he was told.

But he didn't even hear the words. Their true meaning was too large for his mind to gather all at once. The truth that all he had done, all that had been done _to _him, all the Order had accomplished, all it had suffered, all the world had suffered, all the innocence that had died, the reason that Lily had died was all for nothing. The cause he had given his life for, all the lives he had taken and saved, all was in line of the promise he had to himself. And to her.

He had seen so many that he had grown to care for maimed, killed or worse for it. That was why the words that Dumbledore delivered to him were enough to shred his heart, burn the pieces and feed him back their smoking ashes.

"That's…. That's… There has to be another way? You're telling me that…"

Severus Snape's entire existence had just become so crystal clear in that instant. His role as a pawn in the grand game of chess. Dumbledore's position as the puppet master above it all. He felt burning betrayal in his veins, but was too stunned to do anything about it.

Now that he knew the truth of everything, he realised how pointless every sacrifice he had ever made was. His life was shattered.

"Yes. I am sorry, Severus."

But Dumbledore's voice sounded distant and blurred. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was in shock, but the Headmasters office seemed to be fading in and out of existence around him.

"That's not fair. That is not fair! You've kept him alive this long just so that…?" he said desperately, now taking harsh and deep breaths. "I thought… I thought this whole time that you were doing it for her… all these years… that you were protecting him for Lily. For _your _failure! You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter!"

He couldn't see what face Dumbledore was wearing, but his tone did nothing but fuel his rising anger.

"Oh, Severus. How many men, women and children have you watched die in this war? How many have _you _been responsible for?"

Rage flooded through his aching body. He brought himself violently to his feet.

"I have done my best to atone for my sins! While _you've_ been up here scheming all new ones! You're using him just like you used me!" his voice left his throat like thunder.

Dumbledore made no effort to defend himself or shrink back from him, and instead remained very still in his seat. He brought his hands down to the desk, musing him.

"This is touching Severus… Don't tell me now that you've grown to care for the boy?"

His eyes glowed with his anger, casting a glare out at the Headmaster that he usually reserved for his students.

"FOR HIM!?" he bellowed "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _

He brought his wand around dramatically and from the tip of it burst the silver silhouette of a doe. It landed merrily on the officer floor and bounded across the office, disappearing out the office window. Dumbledore watched the summoning, and as the figure began to fade away, he returned to him with a new expression.

But he was denied the chance to speak.

"He is the last living remains of Lily Evans! _She _is the one that's bringing the two of them together! Do you not _see _that!? They are from separate worlds but they're _fighting - _against all the odds! - to be together. She is _pushing _them together! Greengrass is making the decisions that I were too cowardly to do, I'm not letting my mistakes - my stupid mistakes - be repeated! Not this time, I will have no part of it! I have remained your loyal servant for years, but this is one path I refuse to follow you on!"

His chest was heaving hard as he finished. Dumbledore looked down at him pathetically. When he looked to have finally found his words, it was with tears in his eyes.

"Really, Severus? After all this time?"

He took the answer without a change of expression.

"Always."

A long stillness passed in which the power dynamic never changed. For the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore looked to be experiencing fear.

"Very well. Is that all?" he said after a while.

"_They_ are the end of the war. They are the closure. They are the peace that we need. Gryffindor and Slytherin not at odds, but together, the way it was meant to be. Their balance is what the world needs to learn from."

"And?"

He deflated pathetically. Whatever anger had boiled inside him had passed its peak. He suddenly felt more tired than he had done in a long time - and that exhausting was not physical.

His hands fell uselessly to his side.

"The Spear of Longinus avoided the Dark Lord's possession again. Merula Snyde acted as you predicted she would. I've tracked her to neighbourhood in Diagon Alley, where she is living in hiding. Who she's hidding _from_... I don't know yet."

"Bring her back to us, please."

He watched the old man bitterly. This whole conversation had played out for the Headmaster as though they were simply discussing a disappointing Quidditch match.

"I'll do only my best."

His heart was too conflicted right now to realize it, but tonight had seriously changed his mental image of the Headmaster. Severus turned darkly to the exit. He hadn't reached the door before Dumbledore called out to him again.

"Severus?"

He stopped, but made no efforts to look at the older man. He didn't know what he would do if he did.

"We all must pay the price for the greater good, you realise?"

He pushed the breath out of his lungs in the most aggressive sigh of his life.

"If the cost is our humanity, then that is not a future I intend to live."

* * *

_A/N I'm back. Sorry this took so long, in case anyone missed it, it was because I was working on rewriting and retconning Living Dangerously. This story can still be enjoyed without reading the rewrite, but it is recommended, for nothing more than the fact it's now a far superior story to what it was originally. The only retcons you need to know is Tracey is now an Animagus, Moira (Daphne and Tracey's mum) was a member of the original Order of the Phoenix and Harry and Daphne had a lot more scenes together before that infamous potions detention. I realise it's unprofessional to be changing the canon this late into the series, but hell if JK can do it then so will I. _


	24. Effort

Her life was in a state of flux. When she woke up in the mornings it took her a few moments to remember which boundaries she had broken and which bridges she was currently burning. She was living a life she never imagined possible of her, but that feeling of danger brought with it reassurance that she was finally acting in her own best interests. She wasn't just leaving her old life behind, she was becoming an all new person in place of it. And this person was one she was determined she would be proud of. She had strayed from being The Ice Queen once before and it had led her down a path of misery. This wasn't going to be like that time. Now she was in control and she was making the decisions that mattered.

She took longer than needed getting ready, trying to mentally prepare herself for what was without doubt going to be a day spent far outside of her comfort zone.

She had finally stripped her arm of the bandages that sealed her mark as they were becoming too tedious to deal with on the regular. In their place was a thin, black long-sleeved vest she would wear under her robes. It was weak enough that she didn't overheat, while tight enough that she never was in danger of her arms revealing themselves. It didn't get rid of the problem that she still had a condemning symbol of race superiority permanently engraved in her skin, but that was a problem she was dealing with in other ways.

Checking the time once more before leaving her dorm room, she wrapped her house scarf tightly around her neck and ventured into the Slytherin common room. It was the rest of the students' first day back, though the new term was not due to start for a few more days yet. Most people took that as their cue to socialise and for once, Daphne was among them.

She had taken the first step to make things right over the holidays, now it was time for another one of those steps. Things didn't feel different yet, but she knew that would take time. She was so far in one direction, it would take a lot of time, effort and determination to push her back in the other way. To think the effects would be noticeable this early on was optimistic, which she didn't often make a habit of being.

She and Harry had a long talk over their meal - which had almost felt like a date - and now she was settled on the next issue she needed to tackle.

She traversed silently up into the castle, being ignored by most, but as she made her way out into the cold castle grounds she found herself quite suddenly being surrounded by a gathering of her housemates, all heading in the same direction. Although she was hardly on good terms with any of them, it was somewhat comforting that she wasn't travelling down on her own.

She was already out of her comfort zone attending a Quidditch practise, her self-doubt was running rampant, so the validation that her behaviour was normal so far was a reassuring one.

She was brought off her morbid musings by Dominique appearing by her side.

"_Vous venez aussi regarder?"_

She had spotted the girl coming and nodded, politely giving her practised answer.

"_J'ai promis de regarder elle premier match. Je ne l'ai pas fait, alors je me rattrape maintenant." _

The girl nodded, apparently liking the sound of that, but not knowing what more to say. It seemed she had finally picked up Daphne wasn't the most fond of her, but was mature enough to respect it and not fight against it. Instead, she took the lead heading to the pitch and they travelled in silence through the freshly-melted mush, left behind after the snow, and it wasn't before long they were seated in the near-empty Quidditch stands.

There were a number of others from their house also seated, but spaced out enough that nobody was crowded. A few members from other houses were also seated in their respective stands, probably to judge the competition. She directed her attention to the pitch, where the Slytherin Quidditch team looked to be dividing in two groups. The weather was damp and the visibility was low, so she strained her eyes to see the players - that was until she saw Tracey, whose cocky smile was visible even through the grey.

Daphne could apologise to her all she wanted, but she was rapidly beginning to learn that actions spoke louder than words. Tracey and she were back on good terms again after Slughorn's party, but now this would undoubtedly seal any lasting discrepancies the two had. It was some much needed bridge-mending.

The team captain, Graham Montague - someone she knew of but had never formally spoken to - acted as referee and brought the groups together to begin.

The game began with a whistle blown and all the balls broke from their prisons and spread out across the pitch. As soon as the snitch rose into the air, Tracey exploded off the ground after it. Daphne knew the rules of Quidditch, her father made sure of that, so she wouldn't have a problem following the game, but it wasn't the game she was here to watch. As the other seeker, Harper - she didn't know him well enough to know his first name - also raced after it, Tracey was able to make staying ahead of him look effortless and easy. Whatever effort he put into gaining speed was for nothing, as her attentiveness kept her up with the golden ball through all its twists and turns.

By the time she snatched the snitch out of the air and was tumbling back towards the ground, the other Slytherin team had barely scored its first point.

Dominique whooped and shouted next to her, catching Daphne unprepared and making her jump out of her skin. After a second she adjusted, and politely clapped along with the rest of her house.

Her interest was in Tracey, not in Quidditch. The whole game franchise was one she never cared for. She considered it quite a moronic sport, though that opinion would stay silent around the likes of her, Harry and her father, who shared it as a common interest. So while she found herself struggling to share her class's enthusiasm, she made the extra effort to clap along and not look out of place.

Minutes passed of them playing, and by the time Montague got everyone in place for their third round, Tracey was still in the lead. Even from this far away, she knew her well enough to tell when her mouth curled up into that trademarked seductive grin she had. The next match was again, over in a shocking amount of time. But it was in those seconds that everyone was zooming around the pitch that she felt she was witnessing a rare moment - seeing Tracey truly in her element.

"She is _really _good."

Times when she took anything seriously were few and far between, but apparently Qudditch was one of those special things. It was a surprise to her in the best way possible. Good faith that Tracey had lost over the years found itself coming back, even if it was only small quantities.

An hour passed before the game finally ended. Daphne had only zoned out a few times, but had paid attention during everything that mattered. As the captain dismissed them all, Tracey was quickly surrounded by her teammates congratulating her on her play. She had to admit, even she had been taken back by how skilled at it she really was. She even felt a bit of pride at seeing her be the centre of praise and attention. As two of them came down the stands and approached the team, Dominique began to slow, waiting for her to notice their presence. Daphne wasn't quite as willing to wait.

She waved her half-sister down and saw Tracey's face flash between a dozen emotions at once as she spotted them. She politely excused herself from her team and made her way over to them.

"Daffy…? What're you…?" she asked explicitly.

Though confusion was evidently at the forefront of her mind, there was a small smile on her lips that was stretching by the second. Daphne brought her hands to her hips and gestured around them plainly.

"I came to watch you practise."

Tracey looked around them, as though it was suddenly news to her that she was in the middle of practise.

"Seriously?" she asked in disbelief, but again, a vague excitement.

"Indeed. Harry told me you were having a Qudditch friendly and since I missed your first match, I thought that I would come along to watch this one. That is okay, isn't it?"

"Yes! Yes of course! I… wait… _Harry_ told you…?"

"Yes, he did. We've been in contact_, _recently."

Tracey dropped her broom. At her words, the excitement inside her finally triumphed and she erupted, crashing into her with a hug, howling like Astoria at a concert. Daphne allowed herself to get consumed by it. She knew that was coming. She was relying on it coming.

"You're tellin' me _everythin' _later!" she squealed.

"Oh, I know."

At this point Tracey finally seemed to notice that Dominique was also with them. This delay was rare, as the exchange student was always the exclusive subject of her attention whenever the three of them were together. That just helped further cement in Daphne's head that deciding to come was as big of a deal for Tracey as she had hoped it would be.

Their hug was broken off and Tracey's obnoxious grin overtook her face again.

"How'd I look up there? I ride a broom like it's nobody's business, ay?"

Dominique beamed and clapped her hands together in response.

"_Postérieurement magnifique!"_

Daphne nodded in agreement, even though she knew the question was not intended for her.

"You did extremely well."

It didn't take long for the Quidditch team to follow their seeker and appear on either side of Tracey. Blaise, who she hadn't recognised earlier, was also apparently a member of the team, and took Tracey joyfully under his shoulder.

"Well? WELL!? She's the best bloody seeker we've ever had!"

Tracey grinned harder at this and seemed to actually deepen herself into his grip. Blaise continued, sounding like he was talking to the entire pitch, as opposed to just their small group.

"If I'd have known we were sitting on _you _the entire time, I'd have jinxed Draco's broom to fly him into the Whomping Willow in second year!"

The group all joined in laughter at his statement, all barring Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle. She kept her eyes on them, intrigued to see how they'd take his comment.

Crabbe simply shrugged gormlessly.

"'E has got a point."

Tracey broke away from Blaise's grip and brought herself out, standing in front of the group and turning to address them as though she was the captain.

"Draco was good for somethin'… could certainly use his daddy's money right now!"

The proclamation was met by cheers and this time, Daphne even found herself laughing along with them.

"These brooms are outdated as hell. _They're_ the reason we lost to Gryffindor the first time. I did get to speak to Snape, but he doesn't seem interested in forkin' out the cash for us for new ones, so we're stuck with them for now. Which sucks for you guys, but not for me," she added with a chuckle.

Daphne had to do a double check around them. Tracey wasn't the Qudditch Captain, but she was holding the team's attention like that was exactly what she was. Then she saw the leader in question, and he was in line with the rest, listening to her every word.

Seeing her so readily take on a leadership role was again, another brilliant surprise. Tracey being the centre of attention and it actually being for _good _reasons sat very well in her mind. She was glad she came to this practise.

The team dismissed itself and dispersed, separating out to talk amongst themselves and bystanders. Blaise lingered in their vicinity a few moments longer before leaving to make his way up to the castle, to which Tracey then stirred them in the same direction.

"Don't suppose _your _dad will offer to buy us new brooms?" she asked with a laugh.

She shook her head.

"Not unless I'm on the team."

Tracey let loose a deep throat chuckle.

"I mean… we do have room for a third chaser?"

Daphne turned her nose up.

She had broken a lot of boundaries over the past few weeks, but that would be one she would take with her to her grave. Tracey seemed to realise that quickly.

"Right. Heights, I forgot."

Dominique moved in beside them.

"Zhat vas very nice of Draco's father to fund zhe team?"

Tracey waved her off with a laugh.

"Nah, he only did it to get him on the team. The Malfoy's are loaded."

"Really…?"

Dominique seemed particularly interested in that, but Daphne paid her no attention.

It didn't take long before they were reappearing through the bridge into the courtyard. Though they had protection in the stands, walking through the open grounds allowed the cold to worm their way inside their robes earlier than before. With Daphne and Dominique buckling slightly, but Tracey blissfully unaware of the cold due to her still wearing her Quidditch robes, the three came out into the courtyard and began towards the entrance hall.

"Yo, I think that's Sirius Black."

Frowning, Daphne followed Tracey's finger. Low and behold, she saw two faces she hadn't been expecting to see again quite so soon. Sirius Black _was _in Hogwarts and the annoying pink haired Auror, Tonks, was with him. They were talking to Professor Snape by the fountain in the courtyard. Though couldn't hear what they were talking about, but could tell by the faces of everyone involved that it was probably some kind of teasing at the Professors expense.

As her eyes lingered on them, Sirius whispered something to Tonks and both their eyes and snapped over in their direction. He offered her a friendly wave, Tonks seemed a lot less enthusiastic, but did still offer her a polite nod.

"Alright, Daffy!" he shouted across the courtyard.

A burst of whispers happened around her. Apparently not all of her housemates had completely dispersed. She did her best to ignore them, but couldn't fight warmth growing in her cheeks. She replicated Tonks movements and gave a polite gesture back to them, but otherwise carried on into the entrance hall with her house.

"Wanna tell me how you know Sirius Black?" Tracey asked quietly.

Her eyes flickered to Dominique, then onto the rest who hadn't quite broken off into their own groups yet.

"I'll explain later. It's a recent development."

Tracey chuckled knowingly.

"To do with your boyf, I get you."

Daphne rounded her neck around to snap at her, partially for her repeated use of that word, but also for discussing it in public, but was spoken over.

"Who was the pink chick with him?" she asked immediately.

As the three of them took a turn that led back to the common room, her face turned sour.

"Nymphadora Tonks. Draco's cousin. She's an Auror."

Tracey didn't have a snarky comeback, which was unusual for her. She turned back to her to question this, but saw a look on her face that answered her question.

"Oh for _goodness _sake, Tracey!"

"What?" she laughed. "She was fit!"

Daphne's nose scrunched into a disgusted scowl.

"She is at least _ten _years older than you!"

But she was waved off unceremoniously.

"Ahhh, I've gone older."

Her hands went numb. A splutter of words erupted in her mouth as though she was being sick.

"You are _sixteen_!"

Tracey bounded off her rage with a shit-eating smirk.

"But _they _didn't know that."

The two continued their usual bickering banter, it occurred to Daphne that Dominique hadn't said much since leaving the Quidditch pitch.

* * *

Her day had started off difficult, but had improved as time went on. Her good mood lingered up until evening, right up until she found herself closing her final revision book in the peaceful isolation of her dormitory. There had been a slight smile plastered on her face all night.

Bringing the book to a close, Daphne pushed herself back into the comfort of her emerald green pillows.

_This _was the mending she was striving for. Today had not been ground breaking. It hadn't even really been that much of a break from her usual routine, all things considered. But it felt like a great weight had been lifted, certainly. Today was the first day in a very long time that felt even remotely like something normal.

Things were going to continue getting easier, and that was because now she had people to help her along the way. Asking for help was against her very core of being, but now different things felt now. Every day she truly was becoming less and less like the girl she had entered the castle as in her first year.

Her focus slowly switched to the dresser that held her makeup mirror. Thoughts of the prophecy hidden within it leaked into her head before she had a chance to stop herself. She had them memorised so well now, she should probably do herself a favour and throw away the real thing just in case.

_Revelations are underway. The change that was promised; from glory to glory._

_Authority is Power. Influence is Responsibility. Redemption is Betrayal._

_Is the terror of a wrong decision preferable to the risk of indecision?_

One of the many things Daphne hated about Astronomy was how open-ended and uncertain things always are. The cryptic tongue did nothing but unnecessarily complicate things for dramatic flare. Those words could mean a lot of things to a lot of different people. Initially she suspected they were pushing her towards her father's future, egging her on to become the most powerful dark witch she could become, but with each step she took in the other direction she began more and more doubting that assessment.

A stack of letters from her father sat on her dresser. All unopened, of course. She hadn't read anything off him since he wrote asking her not to return for the holidays. Even her Christmas present, a large shoe-box sized parcel wrapped in silver paper, sat untouched on the floor nearby. He was a man who liked to be in-control, so she knew how much her lack of response would slowly drive him mad. It was a comeuppance that would eventually chase her up, she knew, but until then she had no problem making it worse for him every opportunity she got.

Her gaze lingering on the letters, a thought quickly popped into her head.

It was high time she wrote to Harry and tried to arrange some kind of private meetup between the two of them. They hadn't had a chance to see each other since the night they came back to the castle. She didn't know what their relationship was now, whether they were back to being friends or if it was deeper than that, but they made a promise to help each other through what was going to come now. Not to mention they had almost slept together a week ago, some kind of clarification over that would do her wonders. She should definitely feel shameful about almost breaking her own rules like that, but she absolutely didn't.

What she did feel however, was the guilt that she was almost certainly luring him into danger by even contacting him. It was talk of _redemption _and _betrayal _in her prophecy that was the reason she had tried breaking up with him in the first place. It wasn't he that she didn't trust; it was _herself _around him. Now though, it was a problem they were working together through it. And not even just herself and him, but Sirius, Tonks, Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore. She finally had people on her side once again. She had some of the best wizards of their time helping her fight against her father's future.

She moved herself onto the dresser, pushed aside her father's letters, brought out a pen and quill from her desk and began sketching Harry a short message out. It was too late to go all the way to the Owlery to send an anonymous message, but she could definitely have one of the house elves deliver something for her. Doing what she could to keep the message coded, on the off chance it was intercepted by someone other than its intended recipient, she quickly finished off her note and magically sealed it.

And so, just like they were this time last year, they were back to sneaking around behind everyone's back. This time it didn't feel degrading or shameful. This time it felt exciting.

Dragging her school cloak over her robes and wrapping it tightly, she brought herself out of her dormitory, into the communal corridor and out into the common room. Once there she found that peculiarly, considering the time of night, she was not alone.

Draco was sitting on one of the leather settees by the fire, looking anxious about something, but far more eye-catching was Dominique by his side, looking a lot more enthusiastic than he did.

"Zhat is _so _interesting! Do all brits do zhat, or are you just, how you say... special?"

Any and all thoughts Daphne had been having about her prophecy drained quickly and suddenly from her head. There was an overzealous tone about Dominique that couldn't be taken as anything other than flirting. She didn't quite know what kind of encounter was going on between the two, or what business they had together this late, but it was enough of a warning sign to make her interrupt them.

She stepped forward, making her presence loudly known.

"What is this?"

Both their heads snapped in her direction, Dominique looking quite shocked, while Draco kept his expression of grim annoyance.

"Ello, Daphne! Me and Draco were talking, would you like to join?"

Though she was quite cheerful in her answer, Draco on the other hand, stood up as soon as she opened her mouth and quickly made his leave to the boys dorm. His expression, combined with the pace he sped past her, almost made her reach for her wand. He had a look on his face that said without any doubt that she had just walked in on something. Her eyes came back to focus on Dominique, who was sitting alone on the leather settee looking quite deflated. She almost looked like she was about to say something rude to her for spoiling the mood, but she cut her off before she had a chance.

"Stay away from him. You don't want anything to do with the Malfoys."

After a moment, the girl eventually nodded. The way she did so was not unlike the way Astoria did when pulling one of her puppy-dog faces.

"Now go to bed. It's past midnight."

Dominique bowed shyly and also made her exit, now leaving her with the common room to herself. As the french girl disappeared around the corner, Daphne's eyes lingered on that spot.

She already didn't enjoy the girls company, but had brushed that off as a purely culture-based difference of tastes. Now though, a little bit too much of her behaviour was beginning to add up. Maybe her distrust of the girl had been a valid feeling? Her sudden and quite out-of-nowhere date with Harry, and now cornering Draco into something similar... It added together to paint the girl in a new, and less-than-positive light.

She would be watching what was said around her more from now on, that much was sure. For now though, she had a message to deliver.


	25. Honesty is (Not) The Best Policy

Though they were still a far ways off from spring, the blanket of snow had mercifully left over the holidays, leaving behind a damp and soggy Hogwarts grounds in its wake.

"You should have told me about your house, Won-Won! I'm sure mummy wouldn't have minded if you stayed with us for a few days!"

From this distance, Harry could see the Slytherin team practising at the Quidditch Pitch and blissfully wondered if Tracey was over there with them, as he would much rather be over there with her than in his current situation. The trio had taken one of their rare days without lessons or revision to visit Hagrid, but hadn't counted on the trio now being a quartet. While Harry and Hermione had their house scarfs keeping them warm, Ron had his girlfriend, Lavender Brown, wrapped around him, looking not unlike a snake trying to squeeze all life out of it's victim.

Ron's mood took a noticeable souring at the mention of his house. Though he and Hermione had been getting on better since the fire, it was still a sensitive subject for the Weasleys. As for Hermione herself - her eyes had been pointed at the ground the entire journey from the castle.

Moving as quick as their feet would carry them, perhaps in some vain hope that Lavender would lose her footing in the mud and be left behind, it wasn't long until they reached the foot of Hagrid's cabin. Harry and Hermione turned expectantly to Ron, who gave a sheepish and stupid smile as he turned to address his girlfriend.

"You should probably get goin' now, I reckon."

The matters they often discussed in private were not for the average bystander to hear, Harry was glad Ron could recognise that. But he was also glad because, frankly, Lavender was beginning to creep him out more than a little.

Her lip turned up into a puppy dog pout.

"Aw, but I haven't seen Professor Hagrid in so long!" she gave a shrill cry. "Let me just say hello?"

Ron looked back their way, clearly hoping for some help. Harry channeled his inner Ice Queen and remained stone in the face

"Well… actually, he's…" he stammered.

Hermione spoke up for the first time since Lavender joined them.

"He's got dragon pox," she said plainly.

All eyes turned to her expectantly and she nodded, continuing.

"Very contagious. He is in quarantine, actually. Self isolating. We're only allowed down to deliver him some toilet paper. We have taken the essentials to make us immune, have you?"

Lavender laughed obnoxiously.

"Well, no, but I'm sure that I could…"

Just like him, Hermione's stone expression didn't phase. It bugged him how she was able to do a Daphne impression more convincingly than he was.

"Then you best go ask Professor Slughorn how to prepare Gorsemoor's brew. You can visit next time."

It apparently took the girl a second to recognise she was being serious, and then when nobody chimed in to rescue her, she simply laughed merrily and gestured back up towards the castle.

"Oh… okay. I'll be right back then!"

She turned to Ron, scooped him up into her arms and delivered a kiss with such intensity, one would think they were never going to see each other again.

"See you in a bit, Won-Won!"

They all waited patiently on the spot, watching her until she disappeared entirely out of sight over the hill. Ron violently leaned closer to Hermione.

"That was cruel!"

Harry knocked urgently on the huts door, not wanting another row. Hagrid appeared at once, initially looking glum, though his expression brightened as he met each of their faces.

"Ello all! Merr' late Christmas! Y'all got me presents ah hope?"

In contrast to the miserable weather outside, it couldn't have been more pleasant inside Hagrid's house. As he stepped in, hot air hit Harry like a physical blast and instantly melted away any of the icicles that had begun to feel forming inside his cloak. He found himself falling down into his oversized, pungent smelling sofa, while the half-giant bustled around making them tea. Fang was on the group in seconds, trying uselessly to fit his entire massive body onto Ron's knee.

"She is cringey!" she hissed.

"She is my _girlfriend_!" Ron snapped back.

Hagrid didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the twos' continued argument, and instead merrily laughed along with them.

"Still not slung off tha' Lavender Brown 'ave we Ron?"

"Why does everyone keep bloody tellin' me to break up with her? It's none of your business who I spend my time with!"

Although his words could be taken seriously, his tone was an indication that he was joking along with them, albeit probably with some defense as well.

"Havin' a partner is a big part of yer life, Ron! Which means they gotta fit in with _all _aspects of 'yer life. Am not sayin' it's worth splittin' up with 'er just 'cause yer mates don't like 'er, but they need considerin' too! As I once said to 'Arry 'ere, romancises come and go, but friendships like yer's are worth fightin' fer."

Harry did remember that exact conversation he had had with Hagrid, sometime around a year ago. It did a lot to help him then and with any luck, he hoped blissfully, it would also do a lot for helping Ron in the same way. Based on his own experiences, there was probably some solid advice he could offer him on the subject, now that Hagrid bought it up. But Harry was building to something, he had been the entire journey down, and couldn't afford to deviate from it now.

He had suggested coming to Hagrids with a plan in mind. He was not going to repeat the same mistakes that he had last year. He'd done the whole secrecy thing before and it had done nothing but ruin him and everything he held dear. He was now older and smarter and refused to take the cowards path. As soon as Hagrid had settled his friends down from their hissed and spat row and taken a seat opposite them, Harry coughed politely into his fist.

"On the topic, actually! Me and Daphne are seeing each other again and I found out why she was acting so weird! Turns out she's a Death Eater now... we're working on that. She also actually spent Christmas at Grimmauld Place, her and Sirius really get on! "

His lungs strained as he forced it all out in one breath. He then slouched back into the oversized sofa as three shocked expressions met him. As a thunderous bellow erupted from inside Hagrid, something told him that this next hour was going to be an eventful one.

* * *

The minutes sailed by, then eventually turned into hours. The sky was beginning to change colour and the sun was getting threateningly close to the horizon. Any chance of this being a casual visit was long gone out the window.

Harry let the words flow naturally out of him, recounting everything from their breakup all the way up to Slughorn's party, and then an abbreviated version of what happened when she spent Christmas at Grimmauld Place. As smoothly as the words came out, interruptions drained out his voice.

"_She's got the bloody Dark Mark!?"_

"'_Yer didn't show 'er the secret base?!"_

"_She used the - !? On a muggle - !?"_

By the time he had finished, the room was in tatters. Hagrid was bright red in the face - or what of it were visible was, and he was dabbing a handkerchief over his sweating forehead. Hermione had fallen stone quiet, furiously glaring at him as he continued his story. Ron looked ready to punch him, and frankly with all the hostile energy in the room, he was amazed that he hadn't been physically assaulted yet by one, if not all his friends. He ended his story with relaying to them the words Daphne told him about her meeting with Dumbledore, and a long moment passed before anyone said anything.

The fireplace was cold and empty, quite possibly the first time he had ever seen, as the flame had gone out sometime during his story and nobody found the effort to reignite it again. The only noise intruding the silence were the raindrops the size of bullets that had begun banging against the cabin windows - which frankly sounded like music to his ears. After an even longer pause, Hermione was the first to decide to share her feelings and gave a long, hardened sigh.

"I think first and foremost…" her voice cracked with a sombre tone, "... we owe you an apology for not taking your claims seriously."

Ron chimed in very quickly soon after, a lot more aggressively.

"I think secondly, you've earned _this_!"

Moving way quicker than he was prepared for, Ron delivered a blunt punch into his shoulder. Dimly, stunned by the sudden shock to the system, Harry was unable to do anything other than gesture exasperatedly.

"What the bloody hell was that for!?"

"For bein' such a daft prick!" Ron shot back.

His arm stung with pain for a moment before going numb. Hagrid shook his face, his beaded black eyes shining amongst his ginormous beard.

"Goin' _out _with a Death Eater… I ain't ever 'eard of such a thing! Yer father will be spinnin' in his grave, he will be!"

The constant resistance to his story was steadily chipping away at his temper, but it was the mention of his father that pushed him over the edge. With his fist clenched, Harry spoke louder than the room and in the most commanding voice he could muster.

"Look - Daphne _is _on our side, and I'm not interested in having conversations about anything else. If you want to try and change my mind, I will walk right now."

He had tried to word it as a warning, and had mostly succeeded at that, but it didn't have the resounding effect of finality he hoped it would. Ron shuffled around in his seat angrily, while Hermione and Hagrid looked content to listen to him. Pushing the temper from his breath and allowing a forced calm to take him over, Harry began again.

"As I said, she's met the Order and she's met Dumbledore. They gave her the whole trail and it's sorted. She couldn't be lying even if she wanted to. We _can _trust her."

His warning had broken the hostile atmosphere, but it was this follow up that seemed to settle the group a little. Hagrid remained the most quiet, his expression was difficult to read through his beard, while he could still plainly see the conflict on Ron and Hermione's face. Slowly, the latter brought herself forward on the settee.

"Harry, Death Eaters are murderers and cruel..."

Cutting her off quickly, he didn't let her finish.

"But _she _isn't! She was raised like that, but she's different! She is just as scared of them as we are."

Ron chimed in next.

"I'm not scared of no Death Eaters! Would quite like to get my hands on them, all things considerin'!"

Hermione raised both of her hands sternly, not unlike the way McGonagall did, and silenced them.

"What I am saying, _is_ \- we can't afford to underestimate them. I'm sure it has occurred to the Order as well that she could be doing exactly what the Death Eaters want her to do, even without knowing it. So, I'm not going to lecture you on that, or try and change what's already happened, but I just feel we should be extremely cautious around her moving on. Work closely with her, definitely, be also be aware, is all."

He wanted again to stick up for Daphne, but the pleading nature of her tone made him struggle to find fault in what was being said. He was sure about Daphne, but he had lived through the past few weeks, his friends hadn't. It made sense that no matter what he said they would still want to exercise caution.

So Harry collapsed, tired, back into the oversized settee. He hadn't truly taken time to regain his breath since his story began, so finally seeing the group settle on some kind of agreement brought a much needed break to his struggle.

"Has she told us anything useful we can use?"

"Not yet, but…"

As he settled on what to say, he turned to address Ron now as much as Hermione.

"- But Sirius reckons we could get her to go on record with the Ministry and confirm her dad was part of the attack on the Burrow. That would also help Lupin get the blame off the - "

Hagrid, who had been silent for a while, suddenly bellowed, causing all of them to flinch out of their skin.

"WHA' ATTACK ON THE BURROW!?"

After calming down Fang, who was now barking and leaping around the hut, they then spent the next however long catching Hagrid up on the specifics of the Death Eater attack on the Burrow that went down over Christmas. When they had finished, he was again patting his reddened face with a handkerchief.

"Nobody tells me nuthin' 'round 'ere!" he mumbled ungratefully, "Ah swear! Am always the last one to find these things out!"

Harry couldn't remember what they had been talking about before Hagrid's outburst, but suddenly didn't care. Though that kind of a comment was one usually ignored, he found himself focusing on it and after a second, spoke up again.

"Well… you're one of the first ones to find out about this. The three of you are my best friends, you deserve to know. We don't want this getting out to anyone else."

Hagrid's face, or what was visible of it through the hair, sweat and redness, seemed to brighten up quite quickly at that.

"It needs to be a secret," he continued. "Not just for her safety, but also 'cause we want to avoid the big drama like what happened last year. The only others that know are Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Dumbledore and Snape."

A disgusted groan came from Ron's side of the settee.

"You let Snape know? Cringe."

A light snort came from Harry's throat, one he hadn't been expecting and thus wasn't able to stop. As his laugh sounded, it helped lighten the mood of the hut just that tiny bit more.

"He's… shockingly, quite alright with it. If anything, it's Tonks who has the biggest problem."

Hermione frowned at that.

"What could Tonks have against it? Didn't her mother essentially make the same choice as Daphne is doing?"

He shrugged plainly.

"I don't know, the two just really don't get on. Tonks doesn't trust her, but everyone else does."

"Sounds like Tonks is the only one with a good head on her shoulders," he heard Ron mumble.

Harry caught his eyeline. He fired him a warning shot, to which Ron just held his hands up innocently at.

"I just don't like it, mate! After what 'er dad just did, you can't blame me!"

Though his words were accusing, there was a very distinct sadness in them that Harry struggled to be mad at. It was though Ron was accepting his story and trusting him, but out of principle still couldn't allow himself to be okay with it. As Harry looked for the right way to respond to that, Hermione answered for him.

"If she really did use vertiserium, then it _is _likely what Harry is telling us completely true."

Ron turned his nose up as though she had just suggested something disgusting.

"Well, how do we know it was _actually _vertiserium?" he asked in the same pathetic tone. "You said Snape gave it to her? I've been sayin' he is working against us all along."

Though Ron was still on the opposing side of them, they very noticeably weren't arguing anymore, which was progress in itself. Harry finally settled on his words, but didn't get a chance to say them, however, as Hagrid chimed in with a rare contribution.

"Snape _is _on our side and, ah well… Ah do admit that if she has both his and Dumbledore's trust, then she probably is bein' truthful. But I dunno, the whole thing just seems too unneeded to me! Honestly 'Arry, what was wrong with settlin' down with tha' Ravenclaw girl yer used to be seein'?"

The mention of Cho threw him through an unexpected curve ball, and he instantly forgot whatever resolution he had been building to. It fell to Hermione to give the big, final words on the topic. She came forward again in her seat, and moved a reassuring hand onto Harry's knee.

"We are sorry for not being there. You were right in your suspicions and we shouldn't have dismissed them as easily as we did. Between our timetables, your Quidditch practise and mine and Ron's Prefect duties, I know we haven't exactly been the most present in your life. And brushing off your concerns earlier most definitely didn't help. I am sorry, Harry."

Though Ron didn't say anything, his face changed to one of agreement, and his aggressive energy soon simmered down.

"And it's not that we don't want to have good faith in you, Harry, but the past speaks for itself. We are just as justified in being worried about this."

He shuffled out from Hermione's hand, appreciating the gesture, but feeling strange having another woman touch him like that.

"What do you need that will prove it to you?"

She pulled slowly back into her seat, thinking about it carefully.

"I don't know... I mean, I imagine if we could talk to her and judge for ourselves the situation... If she is clearly going to be involved from here on, then we should get to meet her for ourselves and not just communicate through you. It would certainly do a lot to qualm our worries, but I know how unlikely _that _is…"

She gave a shrug and gave up. But in stark contrast, Harry's mind was beginning to fill with enthusiasm.

"Alright then. We'll do that."

She blinked at him.

"What?"

"I can formally introduce you guys."

Ron gave a hardened sigh.

"_Bloody wonderful." _

"When are you both free?"

Hermione remained still and blinked again, looking as though he was suggesting something utterly outlandish.

"I haven't the faintest idea when we are all next free... Ronald and I are in charge of the first years in between a lot of lessons. You'd stand a better chance at joining the three of _us _at a Prefect meet."

"Then when's the next one?" he was quick to suggest.

Finally fighting through her confusion, a degrading laughter sounded from her throat.

"Harry, I wasn't serious!"

"Well, I am."

Hermione moved her arms through the air in useless exasperation for a second, and then she gave a silent gasp.

"The next time the Gryffindor and Slytherin Prefects are working together is the first Wednesday of new term, in the evening. We are sitting in with her and Parkinson on a second year's mock Charms exam, but you can't exactly come into the exam with us!"

He nodded, determined and sure.

"Then we will go somewhere right after."

"- That would be staying up past curfew!"

"Which prefects are all allowed to do?" he shot right back, immediately.

"And you're not allowed to do!"

He smiled.

"Rather handy I have an invisibility cloak, then?"

Hermione deflated in an instant, shaking her head in defeat.

"Honestly…" she muttered foully under her breath.

Ron interrupted their exchange, this time not with a snide remark, but with a laugh.

"Give over, 'mione. You're not gonna change his mind about this."

Harry couldn't hide his smile at that. Hermione gave a slow, drawn out breath and gave in, slouching back onto the oversized sofa, which left his eyes to focus solely on Hagrid now, who had been listening patiently.

"And you as well, Hagrid."

The half-giants chest expanded rapidly, like he was shocked.

"Oh 'Arry, am not so sure about tha'..."

"You said it yourself, if she's in my life then she needs to fit all the aspects of it. And you're a big part of it too."

It was rare Harry was ever this straightforward with his feelings, as it was for anyone, but his experiences of late had taught him the advantages that unfiltered honesty can bring.

His words seemed to have a physical impact on Hagrid, whose back suddenly snapped upright and his mouth dropped open a few inches.

"Well, ah guess if you brought 'er round for tea sometime it couldn't 'urt... Or, or we could go the Three Broomsticks… But, ah want it known! Ah don't particularly 'ave the best past with Slytherin students, 'as to be said! But if yer sure about 'er… Look, ah can't promise ya nuthin… come to think of it, she prolly won't anythin' ta do with a filthy 'alfbreed like me."

Hagrid spoke quickly and anxiously, like he was suddenly being accused of something very embarrassing. Hermione moved in her seat to comfort him, since the pain in his voice was obvious. Harry struggled to keep his supportive smile.

"She won't treat you like that. Daphne is different to them. She's…"

With an annoyed tang of guilt, he suddenly struggled to find anything nice to say about her. Or more accurately, something that would appeal to Hagrid. He knew what she was really like, beyond the facade of the Ice Queen, but even then he didn't think the real her had too much in common with him. Thinking more on the matter, he then couldn't come up with two people who were opposite to one another.

Daphne, with her royal appearance and hardened personality, then the other end of the spectrum, Hagrid, with his heart of gold but scraggy, messy looks. He would stick to his word and introduce them, since he had already made a big deal out of it, but he would probably have to have stern words with Daphne beforehand.

Then, a solemn note sprung to mind. Though they were from two completely separate, conflicting worlds, Daphne and Hagrid did have one thing in common. Under their hardened exteriors they were both real, fragile people. Though their looks were usually enough to put people off, they had a warm heart, bursting with more than enough love to go around. And though people rarely got to see that side of them, Harry had been lucky enough to see it in them both.

"She's more sensitive than she seems," he settled on eventually.

He had dished out a lot of offers and promises just then, but it looked to have finally done the trick. At last, a calm overtook the hut, leaving just the sound of the rain on the roof and Fang's heavy snores. Nobody followed him up or rushed out any more disagreements.

"Thank you for all listening to me. I know this isn't going to be easy, but I'm going to do it properly. I could really use your help along the way."

Hagrid gave a nod, which came out as more of a bow. Hermione followed next, now suddenly having a sense of resolve about her.

"We'll always be with you, Harry."

Ron chimed in next, reluctantly.

"Even if you are a daft git."

With that, Hagrid lurched forward in his seat suddenly, easily scooping the three of them out of their seats with ease.

"OH, COME 'ERE!" he sobbed.

* * *

By the time they are packed up and leaving Hagrid's hut, darkness had fallen. The cold air kept them moving quickly, but they did so out of a desire to make it to the new term feast.

Once seated they met up with Neville, Ginny and Luna, who were to remain regretfully in the dark about this meeting that had just taken place. Though Harry felt bad lying to them, especially in light of this new resolution, he also knew where to draw the line.

In front of him, the table erupted into an endless platter of roasted treats and bizarre foods, but as his friends set about diving into the feast, Harry found his movements slowing. It was true that the last thing he and Daphne needed was to be dealing with more drama, akin to last year. While they worked their situation out, they needed complete concentration. But what was their situation now, exactly? Were they even actually back together? It's how he worded it when telling his friends, and it's how it felt in his heart, but he couldn't remember actually verbally establishing such with her. In fact, she had said quite specifically before the holidays that just because they were back to talking, it did _not _mean that they were back together. But a lot had happened since then, was that proclamation still valid?

Just as he was beginning to feel happy he had finally done the brave thing and faced his troubles head on, he began falling down a rapid spiral of overthinking. Had he just preemptively told them all something that wasn't technically true? Or was he just over assuming things? Their time together in Grimmauld Place had been anything but innocent, but he knew more than most that the lines became blurry around this kind of thing.

As soon as the question made itself known in his head, he suddenly struggled to think about anything else but it. Looks like long, awkward conversations weren't out of his life quite just yet.


	26. Old Times

When lessons finally began again, Daphne felt herself be catapulted back into her comfort zone. Doing revision was one thing, but with no drive and a mind full of anxiety, it never lasted long before creeping worries made themselves known to her. Now that she was forced to focus entirely on the work placed before her, her choice had been taken away and her mind of the outside world cleansed entirely. The level of clarity that hit her as she unravelled a fresh roll of parchment was palpable.

Despite everything that had been told or done to her these past weeks, she only truly felt she entered the safe zone, ironically, as her year drained into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It was the one lesson that she, Tracey and Dominique all shared, and after the Professor explained today they would be practising healing spells, they then moved into groups to practise on each other. Since her outburst at the start of the year, she did well keeping as little attention on herself in Professor Snape's lessons as she could, not just because of the building tensions between the two of them, but also because it felt like her housemates were waiting on her to start something. Whenever she was chosen to give an answer or demonstrate a spell, she was met with hushed whispers, and not in the way she would have liked.

Though the attention was still not fully off her, it was definitely decreasing as time went on. She even found Pansy's glares coming her way less and less. It was ironic that now she was finally back to sneaking around behind the schools back, that's when everyone is suddenly fine with her.

The lesson flew by in no time. Each of them had performed their spells with relative ease. Daphne was the quickest and most efficient, Tracey's was very similar albeit slower, and after struggling initially, Dominique got it too. After copying down their homework assignments, the class was dismissed. Euphoria still thick in her mind, Daphne came to slow down behind the rest of her classmates. Tracey and Dominique glanced back at her.

"Sup?"

"I have plans," she answered plainly. "I will see you tomorrow."

Tracey's eye light up with a devilish glimmer

"Don't do anythin' I wouldn't do! And _definitely _don't do anythin' I would do!"

Politely excusing herself, she waited until the rest of their year had left the classroom and began again, heading down the opposite direction. Dominique gave a short wave, while Tracey finger gunned her and grinned the whole until she disappeared around a corner. The contrast of their reactions, side-by-side, was quite amusing. Suppose opposites did have a habit of attracting.

She still hadn't decided what to do yet about Tracey's crush on Dominique, in light of the recent discovery she had made about the girl. It would be irresponsible and cruel to allow her half-sister to continue pining after someone with questionable morals, so something would definitely have to be done, but quite what that was, however, was a topic she would worry about at a later date. Tonight was entirely her own.

Moving alone, Daphne followed the path the torches lay out through the empty corridors. She didn't have long before curfew, but she didn't have to worry about being caught out late, now that she was a Prefect. As expected, the corridors were deserted. The lesson they had just finished had been one of the extra evening ones only sixth and seventh years took, meaning tea in the Great Hall was long over and she was likely the only one out and about at this time. The silence blaring from the classrooms as she passed confirmed as such.

Orange sunlight streamed into the corridor from outside. The castle was rather warm tonight, which struck her as odd, considering they were still in the recovering weeks of winter.

She thought she might have struggled to find it, considering it was well over a year since she was last there and the hallways had a habit of looking identical, but her movement memory took her right back to the familiar spot with no hesitation. As she brought herself around the last few turns, she found herself growing in excitement.

Finally, she had arrived. The spot was empty, but she knew that wasn't as likely as it appeared. Her head turned slightly, registering the sound of footsteps behind her.

"It has certainly been a while since we frequented this room together," she welcomed the footsteps.

She spoke into an empty corridor, but surprisingly, a response came.

"And a lot has happened since then," a voice came from a few feet behind her.

At that moment, a heavy sounding crackling noise occurred and a doorway began to materialise on the wall beside her. Harry shifted off his invisibility cloak, appearing in full before her.

After what felt like an eternity away, finally they were back. Months had passed since they'd had each other to themselves like this, but it felt like a lifetime away. As the door opened before her, she took a long steadying gaze around the familiar room, nostalgia sweeping into her system.

"Your rebellion... _thing_... disbanded, I take it?" she asked curiously.

Harry nodded, folding up his cloak and taking the lead inside.

"Didn't need it after Umbridge. Why, you going to give me detention if not?" he chuckled playfully.

But his smile was met back by her own blank stare.

"I am a Prefect now, not just in the Inquisitorial Squad. Which means I can give you detention without a teacher's permission."

That just made him just grin harder.

"But only if I've been naughty?"

She forced pressure against her teeth. At his words, she had to fight hard against a redness spreading rapidly across her face. Ideally, she wanted to be able to scold him for that, to artificially extend the banter she had so painfully missed, but reluctantly decided to move away instead.

"I'll prepare some tea, shall I?"

She went to the familiar tea set and set about working, as she had done a dozen times or so before last year. She looked to Harry to see whether he was going to say anything, but saw him looking back, doing the same.

Back to basics it was then, she thought, taking the lead.

"How are things with you?"

"Good, actually! Yeah, really good."

He swayed on the spot a little. There was some mild and curious nervousness in his voice that she thought was quite cute. Then, it took him longer than it should to figure out he should extend her the same courtesy.

"And you?" he asked quickly.

As she poured herself and him a cup of the smoking tea, she struggled to find a smile. This wasn't through dishonesty, but rather, a struggle to open up so freely.

"Honestly… a lot better," she said genuinely.

But then, she realised that if both of them were acting shy, then they probably wouldn't get much accomplished tonight, and forced the words from her mouth.

"It's beginning to feel as though some great weight has been lifted… Things feel better in a way I would struggle to describe," she expanded, though now with her eyes facing the table.

By the time she had placed two steaming cups of tea onto a tray and brought them over, Harry had moved and made himself at home on one of the burgundy settees. He slouched with an arm outstretched beside him. She put the tray down and brought herself to him, but after a careful moment of consideration, decided against falling into the welcoming arm he was offering.

"I was able to patch things up with Tracey after what you told me about her, thank you. I've also caught her up with what happened over the holidays. She knows everything, I hope you don't mind."

He did a polite nod, though looked a little disappointed.

"Yeah, that's fine. Same with Ron, Hermione and Hagrid. They know everything, 'thought it best."

She initially smiled into her teacup, but then dropped that expression when she saw he was not joking.

"You did not… did you?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I did the whole lying thing last year, I wasn't going to make the same mistake."

She placed the teacup down quickly.

"But you didn't tell them about me being a Death Eater?"

Instantly, it was as though a dark shadow had been cast across his face. That look said enough. Her stomach gave way beneath her. He noticed and pulled back a few inches.

"You promised you would not tell!"

"I _promised _I would help you," he was quick to say in a reassuring voice, "They're not going to tell anybody, and them _not _knowing would only make things worse for us in the long run."

She poofed out her cheeks in protest, but otherwise couldn't find much to argue about. Though the idea didn't sit right with her, she did have to admit it probably wasn't a warrant of an argument. She pushed her lips into a thin line and brought the teacup back up.

"You should have consulted me first."

Harry, for the first time, did look apologetic.

"I'm sorry, but like I said, it's for the best," he shrugged.

Taking a sip, she eyed him over the rim of her china.

The attitude he was displaying wasn't his usual. Frankly, she almost respected the lack of compromise he was offering. He was making it very clear that he was right and it wasn't something they were going to discuss further. She did enjoy the rare occasions he was able to take charge, maybe it was because it was such a far cry from the nervous boy who had first approached her last year?

Far too satisfied with his answer, Daphne brought the teacup finally to her lips and drank, scolding her tongue a little in the progress.

In the back of her head, she wished they had something a little stronger than just tea to share between them. It would certainly make tackling the issues she knew were on the horizon a lot easier. They had a lot to talk about and discuss, no doubt about that, but the question was where to even begin? The path ahead of them was unclear and it was relying on them to figure it out. She said she wanted help and now she was staring it in the face, so where did they begin? Eventually, she just decided to throw them both into it.

"My father has been going absolutely spare. I haven't responded to any of his letters since he asked me to stay in school over Christmas."

Harry's face warmed up at the prospect, but then he frowned.

"Will that not just make him more annoyed?"

She took another sip before answering.

"I couldn't care less. That man has done nothing but make my life worse for me. Though, the thought had occurred to let him know _where _I spent Christmas. Then I'd probably be receiving more than a simple letter back, but it would also do well to convince him I'm making progress in my…"

Her words grew silent, losing confidence. Even though Harry knew all about the mission the Dark Lord had set for her and had even seen her mark a number of times now, it still felt wrong to be acknowledging it so readily.

He nodded, either out of pity or understanding.

"Dumbledore wants you to speak out against him… have you decided?"

Again, her response was awkward. Putting her thoughts and feelings into words had suddenly become a lot more difficult than it was a few moments ago.

"It… has been on my mind," she said very slowly, "I'm struggling to come up with ways that won't incriminate me in the process... but, it has indeed been on my mind."

He nodded again, clearly catching that the subject was a little too much for her. It seemed that had been a question he'd been wanting to ask since they first met tonight, because now in its wake, he seemed more quiet than usual.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly.

His eyes quickly met hers, almost as though he had forgotten she was in the room with him.

"Fine, yeah. Just difficult, is all. Lupin thinks the Ministry is going to try and put the attack on the Burrow on to the werewolves, so Sirius is really pushing me on it. They really want you to speak out publicly."

His tone instilled a kind of feeling inside her that, although she was used to it, it was never around Harry that she was used to feeling it. It was shame. Pure, unadulterated shame. Shame for not keeping to her word. Shame for letting someone down.

She inched her knee across, so that it was now leaning across his lap.

"I understand. And, I also know it's probably an inevitability. I just need to work my way towards it."

She tried to convey the messy emotions that were fluttering in her stomach into words, but had no idea how well it came across.

He nodded appreciatively, somehow making her feel even worse, and finally began on the tea she had prepared for him.

"This is lovely," he said after a few swigs.

She nodded politely, but doing so was only curtsy. It was her time to ask the question that had been on her mind.

"What _is _your godfather doing in the castle, may I ask?"

He perked an eyebrow at her.

"Sirius is here?"

She nodded, carrying on to explain.

"I saw him and Tonks with Professor Snape in the courtyard yesterday. He let onto me while I was around my housemates, please, ask him to refrain from doing that in future."

She saw the beginnings of a smile form over his lips, but was quickly controlled as he nodded importantly.

"Yeah. He said Aurors are going to start spending more time around the castle. They're taking turns staying in Hogsmeade."

She moved to retake her own teacup again and let out a cold laugh.

"Father won't like that…"

Harry met her with a look that she understood all too instantly.

"Not on _my _behalf, though?" she asked quickly.

He winced so hard that it looked as though he'd taken a bit out of a rather sour lemon.

"_Probably_ not?"

His high-pitched voice didn't sound very sure of himself.

"It's something they've been pushing the Ministry for a while now. I think you were the final straw."

The sinking feeling at the pit of Daphne's stomach suddenly made itself known again.

The Order of the Phoenix was guarding the castle for her. Inside, she was struggling between emotions. Part of her felt embarrassed for the fuss, another part felt helpless and ashamed at requiring the help, then, overshadowing them both, a much larger part was utterly terrified about how her father would react if he knew that what she had done. She was actively making steps to help the enemy. Although, the Order wasn't the enemy to her now.

She washed away her rising anxieties with another gulp of tea.

That guttural reaction was probably something she would be living with for a while. Though her head was solved on the idea, apparently her heart and her stomach still needed time to adjust. But again, this was probably just one of the many side effects living life as a traitor would bring.

"Sirius is having the talk with the rest of them this weekend."

For some reason, the idea of that made her stomach shrivel up.

"Who else is in the Order?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Bloody hell… everyone, really? Outside from who you've met, there's Mad Eye-Moody, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks' mum and dad, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt… Penny and Beatrice Haywood, Tulip Karasu…"

His words got quieter and quieter until he turned to her, a sullen expression on his face.

"Hang on, should I be telling a Death Eater all this?"

She couldn't help it. It wasn't the fact his joke was actually funny, quite the opposite, the sheer gall of it impressed her that much that an obnoxiously ugly snort exploded out of her mouth before she was able to stop it.

She slapped a hand over her mouth quickly afterwards, and set about glaring lethal daggers at Harry.

"That's not funny."

"It _was _a bit."

He was right, but she wouldn't let him know that.

In fact, that was the first time her being a Death Eater had been brought up and she'd felt any emotion other than shame. Trust him to be the only person capable of making her laugh over it.

Butterflies now rampant in her stomach, Daphne carefully lowered herself backwards into the settee, closer to his outstretched arm, but not entirely giving in just yet. She did, however uncurl her knee so her leg was now fully stretched over him. Wearing her usual skirt and thigh-length socks, this meant that a small section of her bare leg was now exposed to him. He noticed this and responded as such, shrinking automatically back into his shell of shyness.

Satisfied they were now even, Daphne gave a thin, cruel smile.

"I hope the rest of the Order is as understanding and courtesy as your godfather is. He's quite the respectable gentleman."

Harry looked to have no clue what she was talking about for a second, then he was able to get his attention away from her leg and back onto the topic.

"Sirius is fantastic. Genuinely. And he likes you, which is good. He's fully supportive of you and of us."

She nodded. That made her feel good, but she couldn't quite explain why. Suppose he was as much of a father figure as Harry would have had, was that the equivalent of having a parent's approval?

"You still haven't told me how an infamous mass murderer is your godfather."

"He isn't a mass-"

She interrupted him quickly with a deadpan voice.

"It was a joke."

Just when it looked like he was about to go on a berserk tirade, his face and chest deflated quite suddenly. Daphne nudged him with her teacup.

"Tell me the story, we have time."

And so he did. It took a few moments before the words began to flow freely, then he dived into the depths of the long and complicated story that happened to him in his third year, and the relationship surrounding his godfather, Sirius Black. She listened intently and soon found herself picturing his words in her head. For some reason it was difficult to imagine Professor Lupin young and in school, and she also struggled to picture what Harry's father could look like without just aging him up - though based on description, that would have been a fairly accurate depiction anyway.

Somewhere along the way, she decided to stop playing hard to get. The pressure she usually kept in her lower back relaxed and she slouched into the settee.

Her hair pressed gently against the fingers of his hand, the one still outstretched along the back. As he spoke, his fingertips began to interlace with strands of it, but he looked so deep into recounting his story he appeared not even to notice. And this was how they found themselves for the next half an hour. Harry spoke passionately about his family for the first time, and Daphne was eager to hear him. As he twiddled strands of her hair between his index finger and thumb, each sweep of his fingers sent a small electric tingle through her head and directly to her heart, causing it to leap a few inches higher with every beat. It made her have to focus hard on listening to his story, when she felt like a cat being stroked.

For a second he realised what he was doing, and to her dismay, looked like he was going to stop. So instead, she brought her face to his arm, planting her cheek firmly against it and shifting her weight onto him. Staring up at him, she watched as his words tripped him up.

"And... and so Sirius was in hiding until… well, until the battle in the ministry. After that, he was proved right. Now he's got Order of Merlin, First Class and… and I think Bathilda Bagshot is writing a book. About him, I mean."

She did enjoy seeing him squirm. Her lips pressed into a thin smirk, one so subtle probably even he wouldn't be able to see, and she nodded.

"Twelve years as a rodent… it's a wonder that man isn't mad…"

Now she actually thought on the subject, she did distinctly remember a man of Pettigrews likeness serving her father the night of her Longinius heist.

"Sirius broke out to kill him. And I should have let him, because if I hadn't, Voldemort wouldn't have been able to come back."

It was as though he had suddenly grabbed a lock of her hair and tore it from her head as hard as he could. She winced harshly, bringing her face down.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly.

She steadied herself, then brought her face back to his arm.

"No, no. My fault. It's about time I start getting used to that…"

Though it was difficult to tell, looking up at him sideways, she was sure he had a very satisfied look on his face at that.

"My father was in the Order of the Phoenix with Sirius and Lupin as well. I'm pretty sure between the four of them and Dumbledore, they were it's founding members."

Any discomfort she felt hearing the Dark Lords name was forgotten in an instant. His smile always did wonders for her. It made her head go hot and dizzy and it felt as though nothing in the world could ever be wrong. He had been very passionate while he'd been talking about his father and his friends, maybe the most enthusiastic she had ever seen him. It made her wonder why they hadn't had this conversation before.

"You don't talk about your parents often."

Her words came out as very dream-like. Suppose that was a side effect of her melting so much into him. He gave a sad but reassured smile.

"I don't remember them, really. Everyone expects it to be a sensitive subject, but I never really knew them long enough to feel the loss. That sounds bad, I know, but.."

"I understand," she offered him back an equally false laugh. "If it's any consolation, having parents isn't all it's cracked up to be. My father's a xenophobic psychopath and mothers a gyspy."

He looked back to her, amused at the joke, but not enough to laugh.

"My dad used to be a Seeker. And my mum was in the Slug Club, she was fantastic at potions."

"All the same as you, then... minus the latter."

His face screwed up as he acted mock offended.

"I have gotten _fantastic _at potions recently, I'll have you know!"

"Probably because you had a good tutor."

She brought her lips back into their sly grin, more obvious this time, and gave him some mocking of her own. He pulled back, smiling gently to himself.

"Well, we are all just the culmination of our parents blood. Your father was a seeker and he passed that into you, your mother had a taste for the finer things, and now here you are with me," his laugh briefly interrupted her, "My father was a Death Eater, now so am I. You'd think that's bad enough already, but I'm just happy Tracey got all mothers traits."

"You're actually talking about your mum?"

She mused the thought for a moment.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

He looked to think very carefully before saying his next words.

"Why'd you never tell me she was muggleborn?"

The words crept over her unpleasantly. If it were anyone else, they'd be getting a very different reaction from her. But her guard was lowering by the minute, if he asked, she'd probably feel fine baring any dark secret to him right now.

"It's not something one flaunts about. Not someone like me, anyway. Tracey can do it to her heart's content, but she is shameless. I don't have that luxury."

But the box had been opened. Memories and feelings she often tried to hide from where filling her once again. The difference - the startling, otherworldly difference - was that for the first time since she could remember, it was a pleasant feeling. It felt like nothing could hurt her here, with his warmth on her face, and likewise, her relationship with her mother suddenly looked a lot more hopeful of late.

"Come to think of it…"

"What?"

She looked back up at him.

"What years did your father attend Hogwarts?"

He breathed slow, unsure.

"Probably… Nineteen seventy to seventy eight? Why?"

It took a moment for things to click together. Slowly, an amused grin overtook her face.

"What?"

She brought her head up so she could look smugly down her nose at him.

"My mother was the Gryffindor Beater between nineteen seventy five to seventy eight. Which meant… our parents were teammates."

Harry looked absolutely gobsmacked. And truth be told, Daphne felt much the same way.

"Seriously?"

"Trust me, I'd know! She kept the Quidditch trophy on the mantelpiece."

She rarely let her thoughts dwell on that of Moira Davis, but right now she could picture her clear as day. And the old grainy photography taken on the training pitch, with the Quidditch cup award that hung beside it. To think she had a connection to Harry all these years and her bone idleness had stopped her from seeing it… maybe in a world without the war, who was to say what could have happened? Maybe they could have even been childhood friends?

"I had no idea," he said distantly.

She looked back to him, and saw his expression matched his voice, and looked a million miles away from her.

"I could probably ask her if she has any old pictures… if you wanted."

He looked to her quite suddenly, cheerfully.

"I'd really like that, yeah."

With their eyes together, she took the opportunity to lower her face back against his arm. It was important to her that he watched her do it. He needed to know it was intentional.

"Of course, it shan't be until the next time I see her… whenever that will be. We didn't leave things off on the best foot. But I have a good feeling she will be happy with the recent developments. She never was supportive of the dark arts, it's what drove her and father apart. And her and Tracey's father. The woman apparently had a thing for bad boys."

He struggled with a laugh.

"Yeah, but not terrorists, Daphne. You say they're like each other?"

She nodded, the image of her mother now at the foremost of her mind. Again, it was a strange sensation delving into the topic without the usual feelings of hate and perfidy that usually followed.

"Just as stubborn and as brilliant, yes. And as brilliantly stubborn."

"Suppose that's where she got her skill on a broom, then?"

Thoughts came rushing back to her. Thoughts of Tracey during the Qudditch practise, and the amazing feats she'd never have thought her capable of. Those two aspects did suddenly make a lot of sense to her. Tracey clearly inherited more than just their mother's snarky attitude, then? Her mouth dropped open a few inches as she struggled to find the right words.

"Oh! Don't get me started! She is amazing on a broom, frankly I was quite stunned. I knew she enjoyed the sport but I had no idea she could fly so well!"

Though his laugh was forced, it was noticeably playful.

"Yeah… she's _almost _as good as me."

"It's a shame I was…" she struggled for the right word, awkwardly, "I was _busy _the night of your match. It would have been quite amusing seeing the two of you against each other. Dare I say, I wouldn't know who to root for?"

"There's still a chance. If they win their next match against Hufflepuff and we win against Ravenclaw, then the match for the cup will be a rematch between us."

A guilty feeling crept in. She genuinely wouldn't know who to route her, in that situation.

"That's certainly something to look forward to."

Though the memory lane was nice, she didn't entirely want to risk lingering on the subject of her mother. A lot of the boundaries she had crossed of late were a long time coming, but those wounds were still fresh. She was having a good night, the best she had done in a long time, and wasn't going to do anything to ruin it. Pushing past, she elected to move away from the past and focus instead on the future.

With a cough, she brought her voice back to it's full energy.

"The first Hogsmede trip is on soon. I will be escorting the third years and I plan to get you a Christmas present while I'm down there, is there anything in particular you would like?"

"Why?"

"Because you're my…"

The words got stuck in her throat. She had fallen into the exact same trapping he had done over Christmas. And just like him, she lacked the nerve to stick to her feelings.

"Because you got me something and it's only proper that I do the same," she settled on.

"Daphne, I'm not bothered about any of that-"

"The _only _opinion I'm asking for - !" she said quickly, cutting him off, "... is what you want. I _am _getting you something and you _will _enjoy it."

He laughed quite suddenly and shook his head. She felt she should probably scold him for that, and gave him a glare down her nose. Unfortunately that just made him smile harder.

He gestured down at her chest.

"Where is the locket, anyway?"

She followed his eyes, for some reason. She indeed wasn't wearing the locket, and in fact hadn't worn it at all since he'd gave it to her. Whatever guilt she felt from that was drowned out by the sound head on her shoulders.

"Locked safely away in my dresser," she said curtly. "You believe me daft enough to wear it around the school?"

He shrugged.

"I mean, it is why I gave it to you."

"Harry, it is _priceless_!" she shot back.

Then, when she saw the look on his face, softened up a bit.

"... _And _it is important to me, so I am keeping it safe, locked away."

As she said her piece, it came out with an air of finality about it. He seemed to understand her reasons, or if not, at the very least he respected them and didn't push further.

This kicked off a number of minutes were nothing else was said between the two. She remained where she lay, her face squashed against his arm, watching him, while he seemed to stare out into the oblivion. Seemed - being the keyword there. She caught him looking back to check she was still looking at him a few times, but apparently nerves or something else kept him from holding her gaze. It was only ever when they had intimate moments like this he got nervous. She enjoyed seeing him squirm under her little finger. She enjoyed it, and more than that, she missed it.

Finally, she decided he'd had enough. It was unfair to continue teasing him the way she used to, now that their current situation was so thoroughly undefined. Before the holidays she had told both herself and him that he shouldn't go getting any wrong ideas about their relation to each other, then she'd gone and broken her own rules no less than two days later. As much as she enjoyed it, some vague part of her recognised it would cause more trouble than it was worth, and that part was finally in control.

She brought her legs off the settee and she sat up, straightening out her back. She glanced at the wall mounted clock and saw they had been in here two hours already. Time was not massively of the essence to her, she knew, but it was still amazing how it felt when they were together. She brought her hand to her hair. He had done a good job at brushing it for her, even if he had only been using her fingers. Her blonde locks felt soft and much curlier than usual.

"There's something I wanted to ask you," he said from beside her.

For some reason, her stomach did a quick somersault. He rarely sought permission before asking something. A flurry of emotions made itself known inside her. What could be such a big question that he approaches it like this? Keeping her face hidden behind the wall of hair, she fought to keep her cool.

"Well, I am listening."

"It's more of a favour, really."

She deflated a little and turned back to him. Her hopes that he finally had gotten the nerve to ask her washed down the drain.

"Ah… what is it?"

He struggled for a minute.

"Can you... try to keep an open mind for it?"

Her interest was piqued again, and in less-than-innocent ways. Against her better judgement, she pushed forward.

"... Go on."

Then he nodded, but it looked more to himself than to her.

"When I told my friends about us, they weren't very sure. They trust me, but they want a chance to judge you for themselves. I said the four of us could meet up sometime."

Her face scrunched up unpleasantly.

"Secrets don't mean much to you, do they?"

He, somehow, pulled off the puppy-dog eyes that Astoria had become so well known for, absolutely perfectly.

"Please don't be like that…"

And just like when Astoria did them, they tugged her frozen heart strings with an unforgiving grasp.

"Your friends… You mean Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, I presume?"

"And Hagrid, but there's less of a rush with that."

She pushed the breath from her lungs. She was more annoyed than she would readily show him. Annoyed about what, she couldn't quite figure out, but it was probably down to the prospect of having a nice meeting like this interrupted by the inclusion of others.

"That will be fine, then. I will not pretend to be thrilled about it, but… it's the least I can do, with the help you've given me."

She couldn't possibly imagine it going anything worse than when she first met the Order, anyway. He seemed very happy with that answer. And apparently, it had given him the final push of courage he needed.

He brought his lips to meet hers. It took her quite by shock, but she didn't pull away. She held her breath, in fact, stuck somewhere between surprised and happy. But that conflict quickly melted as a rush of gooey warmth swept her system and she began to return his actions.

They kissed gently and slowly. They had time to enjoy themselves, and a lot of time to make up for. The warmth of another person's lips was unlike anything she ever experienced. There was nothing that could replicate it. Hot showers, heated bed covers, fireplaces, nothing came remotely close to the kind of organic, beautiful heat of another person. It transcended everything she had come to know about the world and what made her happy. It was the only heat that could melt the ice queen.

She pulled back from him. It was different when he was doing it. She didn't want him getting the wrong idea, she didn't want him to feel like they were more than they were.

But she was lying to herself. It was _no_ different to when he instigated it than to when she did. It made her just as happy, and filled her with the same sense of belonging she so often sort after.

Finally, he asked the question she'd been waiting for, barely more than a whisper.

"What are we?"

She knew it was coming. She knew she'd given such mixed signals the past few weeks, it was only a matter of time before he called her on it. And she'd been counting on it, because her answer was already prepared. Mirroring his tone, little more than a whimper, she replied.

"What do _you_ want us to be?"

He was silent. It was only for a short time, but it felt a lot longer. He was quiet, then, after the anticipation had set in the air for a while, he gave the answer she was hoping for the most in the world.

"Right here. Together."

She smiled. Wide and proud. No Ice Queen, just Daphne Greengrass, grinning broadly at her boyfriend, Harry Potter.

"Then, there's your answer."

He laughed. It was relatively out of nowhere, but she didn't care. She joined in, and brought an embarrassed hand to her face. She glanced up at the clock again.

"Technically, I am on duty right now... Which means I don't have a curfew."

He caught her cheeky gaze. They both thought the same thing and quickly brought themselves together again.

* * *

_Important A/N - Video Alert! I've been a writer of Haphne for almost a decade now, recently I've been working on a video essay examining Daphne's fandom popularity, Ice Queen persona that has come to be associated with her and Harry Potter fanfiction as a whole. It's finally finished and uploaded, it's called "The Most Popular HP Character You've Never Heard Of" and my channel name is Hadley. It features custom artwork of both Daphne and Tracey Davis, includes some fanfic recommendations and even references this series a handful of times. __Considering how popular the character is, it's shocking she gets so little exposure in other platforms, I figured it was about time we fixed that. __Please do check it out, it's your guys love and feedback that inspired me to make it. I really hope you guys enjoy it!_

_And if you do enjoy, chuck us a cheeky like and subscribe, we need all the traction we can get ;) The vid has already done very well and so I have a second one on the subject matter coming, which will probably already be up by the time you read this! Thank you all again._


	27. Trio's Fourth

By the time Harry reached the library that much awaited evening, the back of his neck was already shining in sweat.

Picturing all of this in his head seemed a lot easier than it was playing out to be.

He started looking for a table to suit their needs. It would have to be hidden away from the public eye, a task which was difficult because even though there were not that many in at this time, everyone was sitting at their own tables. That meant no privacy, which was bad for them. They did not need word getting out about this, not after all that social drama seemed finally over with.

Then, he noticed a familiar head of yellow hair by the Restricted section. She was early. He approached cautiously - it was hard to tell whether she was concentrating or not, her expression held perfectly still as she scanned the book in her hands.

"You're early?"

Her head snapped from her book and closed it in an instant.

"Where are your friends?"

No formalities, no polite conversation, she was straight to the point. He still couldn't decide if that humiliated or captivated him.

"This is where they're meeting us, so they mustn't be here yet. Should we look for somewhere?"

Daphne pulled herself quickly up from the table. He noticed this and tried a hand of reassurance.

"Just play it cool. Be yourself."

But her shoulder avoided him.

"I have nothing to prove."

The alarm in her voice was apparent. It might not have been to the regular person, but he knew the difference between comfort-zone-Ice-Queen-Daphne and defence-mechanism-Ice-Queen-Daphne. She was extremely nervous right now, he couldn't imagine why, but it wouldn't make anything that was about to happen any easier. He was getting quite good at tackling life problems head on recently, but at the same time, he couldn't afford Daphne working against him on this.

The plan was for them all to revise together tonight. No pressure on making conversation or becoming friends, just starting little and getting used to one another's company. It was easy, in concept, but as the time grew closer and closer he found himself growing ever more doubtful. He knew it was just nerves talking, but this was the first time he would be bringing together two big aspects of his life, and that mattered to him. The Department of Mysteries didn't count, this would be the first true meeting of his friends and his girlfriend.

Eventually she and him ended up waiting by the entrance of the library for his friends to show, albeit far enough apart that they didn't immediately strike as being there together. Students walked past them in the other direction, which was good, though he was unable to pinpoint quite which tables they had just freed up. Soon the time came. Ron and Hermione arrived, bringing with them their book bags and revision books, and with that latter very much taking the lead.

"Hello, Harry. Greengrass."

Ron was slower to greet her, and did so with a nod. Daphne was very still to them. Her eyes slid first to Hermione, then to Ron. Considering he knew how she probably felt, she was doing well at maintaining eye contact. Then again, he wouldn't put it past her for that to be some kind of intimidation play.

She eventually gave a nod of greeting back and the four of them joined together in a group. As they traced their ways back through the aisle of the library, Harry found the spot the students had recently vacated from, and it was as if the heavens themselves had aligned. Together, Harry, Daphne, Ron and Hermione seated themselves down on the very same table that their first tutor session on. If Daphne recognised it as such, she didn't let on.

For the longest moment, that was it. The four of them sat in silence and read. Though nothing was wrong, he couldn't escape the feeling that _everything _was wrong. Seeing his two big and very different parts of his life finally together felt like worlds colliding, and it made the anxiety bubbling away in his gut very noticeable in contrast to the soothing atmosphere of the library. The silence was eggshells around him. More time passed and nothing was said. This was the plan, for them all to get along during a revision session, but total silence wasn't quite how it was intended to go. He wished he could know what everyone was thinking.

He felt kind of guilty, given nobody wanted to be here except him, and now he was doing nothing to sooth the situation. Realising as such, he decided to do something about it.

"So, Daphne spent most of Christmas at Grimmauld Place with me and Sirius. She doesn't get into muggle London a lot, so it was a weird one for her."

Hermione looked up suddenly, as though he had actually disturbed her reading, which he didn't think was the case. Her eyes slowly drawled over to Daphne, who she smiled at.

"How did you like it?"

"It was… interesting."

Harry shot her a look, which she mercifully caught.

"Muggles… they live very interesting lives. Innovative, I mean. The Christmas decorations up in central London were marvellous, I'll give them that."

Hermione seemed pleased with that.

"They always make a big deal out of turning it on. I went a few times when I was a girl. You probably don't get to see many muggle towns, I suppose?"

She nodded.

"My mother and sister live in Manchester. Father and I would visit them there when I was a girl, but I haven't been properly in years. Other than that, there's an old english village a few miles from the manor I sometimes go horse riding through, it has a rather quaint charm about it."

It was difficult to describe, but he knew when Daphne wasn't being sincere. When she relaxed she spoke in the same tone, but more genuine and more down-to-earth. When she wasn't, she deliberately gave overly long sentences, trying to impress or intimidate he imagined. The way she was coming across right now, she wasn't even trying to be friendly. Even he would struggle making friends with her in her current state.

But, suppose it was still conversation? To his surprise Hermione actually looked interested in what she was saying, and her face lit up at the mention of horses.

"You keep horses? That's so lovely! I always wanted one."

She nodded again, but still not meeting her levels of enthusiasm.

"We did, not anymore. After Astoria came to Hogwarts we thought it unfair to leave them locked up for so long, so we sold them on. Terrance and Matilda, they were a pair of black and white Arabians."

Her tone was being deliberately difficult, almost condescending. Despite the detail, she was guarding her answers and playing her cards close to her chest. Harry gritted his teeth against the urge to say something. He knew they needed to be seen working together on this. The last thing he needed was an argument between them while trying to convince his friends she was on their side. Luckily, if Hermione did notice her tone, she soldered past it like a champ.

"Arabians are quite expensive, aren't they?"

"They're common among pureblood families. There's controversy surrounding whether they count as magical beasts or not, that's why they're so rare for muggles to acquire."

"Really? That is fascinating."

But yet, it seemed to be working? Hermione was fully invested. Come to think of it, this was the first time he had any idea that either of them had any interest in horses, and that was good, wasn't it? That meant it was an actual conversation, right?

Ron caught his eye for the first time. He looked uncomfortable, probably over the girlness of the topic, but equally as surprised that the conversation was happening at all. Harry fought a pained expression, urging him to let it play out.

"I could recommend you some reading material on it, if you like? There was an article in the recent edition of Scamander publications; a beginners guide to the discourse on if the Arabian horses and Woolly Mammoths class as magical beasts or not. It goes on to propose we can't classify one as non-magical without the other. It's quite an interesting think-piece."

Hermione leaned across her Astrology textbook.

"I've heard about that argument! Hasn't it all been up in the air since the seventies? Didn't Newt Scamander have to get involved?"

Daphne readjusted herself in her seat, interested.

"Scamander had to offer his professional opinion. He feels we shouldn't keep the creatures to ourselves, but that muggles might resume their hunting of the Mammoths if they were reintroduced. He wants the rule to be split evenly, which obviously can't happen."

"Why not?"

"Arabian horses and the mammoths simply tick off two many of the similar boxes. It would be too complicated treating one differently from the other. That whole section of the rulebook would have to be rewritten."

Harry sat with his mouth open. He didn't have to look to the side to know Ron was doing the same, and that there was only one thought bouncing around in their heads. Was this really what smart people talked about in their spare time?

Maybe he was being too pessimistic about how everyone would get on after all?

* * *

"Oh, look - it's not as awful a word as it's made out to be! It's only the muggleborns who decided it was a slur! I didn't mean it in a derogatory wa-"

But Hermione, red-faced and furious, didn't let her finish.

"It means _dirty blood_! How can that mean anything else?"

Daphne swept her hand through the air in a dismissive way.

"It's just a word! And I apologised! I wouldn't have done so if I didn't mean it!"

Far too late did it occur to Harry that he probably should have seen the conversation going south and stepped in. Again, everyone was here on his terms, which made it his responsibility to meditate the conversation. Then again, trying to force himself between Hermione and Daphne in an argument seemed like a death sentence. Still, this was on him and he couldn't just do nothing. The feeling of being isolated and attacked like this when already so far out of your comfort zone, that was exactly the kind of thing he promised to protect her against. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try and stick up for her, so he tried to soften the conversation a little.

"She _did _say sorry without having to be told to…" he suggested sheepishly, quietly, "Is politics a great idea for us to really be talking about?"

Their arguments shot back and forth with quick succession, but fell all of a sudden. Attention turned to Harry, who for a moment was sure he was going to die. Daphne seemed happy he was taking her side, but annoyed that he thought she couldn't take care of herself. Hermione's face twisted as though he'd jabbed a knife into her stomach.

"Well considering she is a _Death Eater_, yes I bloody do think it's something that needs talking about!"

He couldn't help but feel betrayed by that. She had been the first one on his side in Hagrid's hut, but was the first to turn against him tonight. That was probably down to Daphne calling her a mudblood to her face, but still. Don't get him wrong he was angry about that as well, he just knew the importance of sorting out priorities.

Daphne's tone was growing impatient, but she was doing a good job of not letting them see how angry she was getting. He thought she was doing well at keeping a cap on her temper - the best he had ever seen, in fact - but her face was now red and she was struggling to keep quiet. This kind of hushed, menial argument was usually below her. Probably the only reason she'd degraded herself partaking in it was she knew she was wrong and justifying herself was important. The look on her face wasn't the one she had dealing with Tonks, but was more akin to their original potions lesson together, or the time he'd bore witness to a fight between Tracey and her. She looked positively ready to reach across the table and stab the next person who spoke - Hermione was doing incredibly well meeting her face-to-face.

No longer shouting, but otherwise retaining the tone of argument in her voice, Daphne shook her head sternly.

"I may be more conservative in my beliefs than you, but I am _not _a bad person! I would never harm or degrade somebody for what is out of their control!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but at that point Ron finally worked up the nerve to join in and jumped between them. He pointed at Daphne with his finger out like the barrel of a gun.

"You called 'ermione a mudblood!"

Harry shot daggers at him, but it was nothing compared to the face he got from Daphne.

"By accident!"

"You still did it!"

She stuck out a hand to silence him. It wasn't directed at him, but he felt his lips seal tight at the authority that came with it.

"Look - purebloods and half bloods are brought up with the wizard world all around them! It just makes more _logical _sense that they would understand the customs more than someone only introduced to it at the age of eleven! That's _all _that I am saying!"

Hermione made an ugly noise, somewhere between a cough and a scoff. Maybe a scough?

"I have the highest marks in all the year!" she retorted.

But Daphne just grew more annoyed.

"Yes, and well done - but you're an exception, and what I just said isn't invalidated by that!"

Ron leaned back aggressively in his chair.

"Neville is a pureblood and he's bloody hopeless with magic!"

She let out a frustrated groan and brushed hair behind her ears. She was struggling to make her point, and though Harry wished he could help, he also couldn't say in good confidence that he actually agreed with her. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. She was now taking an entirely hostile stance towards his friends, but he felt powerless to do anything that wouldn't make them all worse off.

"That's magical power though, not culture! He will understand the intricacies of our world far more than Granger will because he was brought up by it, and didn't have it introduced to him! That's _all _I am stating! There's no use getting frustrated over it! I'm not insulting you, I'm just stating facts. Purebloods are brought up around wizarding culture and so they will have a greater understanding of it than a mudblood would do. And more often than not, they end up embarrassing themselves trying to understand it."

All too late, she seemed to realise her slip of tongue.

"YOU DID IT AGAIN!"

Daphne's face twisted in horror, but as she opened her mouth to, presumably apologise, Hermione lowered her face and let out a low, haunting chuckle. It was something quite unlike Harry had ever seen her do before. The air between them rippled with the heat of their enmity. They couldn't disguise it any more, somebody was going to get hurt now. Even Ron looked like he was beginning to understand the real nature of the conversation.

It was the final kick in the shins he needed to intervene, but he knew if he didn't then his girlfriend's safety was probably at stake.

"Right! Let's stop now!"

"Listen to me, you-"

"_Be quiet! You are in the Library!" _

Madam Pince had appeared from somewhere. Now attention had been drawn to their bickering, both girls seemed to have lost their nerve to carry on. Daphne's eyes sank to her lap and Hermione, looking like she was biting hard onto her tongue, simply set her gaze across the table to Daphne.

"Sorry, Madam Pince."

"We're sorry."

As Madam Pince snaked back between the isles, he hopefully wished that was the end of the argument. It shouldn't have gotten as far as it had in the first place, and it was his fault it had. Mercifully at this point he was able to catch Daphne's eye and sent her a pleading look. She tightened her lips at his stare words, clearly understanding the intent.

Slowly, and very forcefully, she let out a low sigh.

"I _am _sorry…" she started again, quietly, "... It's the culture I was raised in and I can't change that. I didn't mean to insult you. And I apologise for whatever future mishaps I will probably have. It's not my intent, it's a force of habit."

Hermione's arms were folded up on her chest. She didn't look as angry anymore. In quick concession Daphne then turned to Ron, who outright backed up in his seat.

"And you. Weasley. On my father's behalf, I am sorry for what happened to your house," she spoke loudly now, like announcing to the entire library. "His friends are cruel people and you did not deserve it. If I had access to his funds, I would pay for the place to be repaired with his money. I understand how it looks, but I promise you, all four of us are on the same side."

Despite her words of solidarity, they seemed to have no effect on Ron. He leaned nastily over the table top.

"Show us your arm, then."

"Ron!" Harry shouted.

But Daphne took the jab silently, a venomous visage frozen on her face.

"I could do it, you know. I have nothing to hide."

Hermione was quick to push herself between them, pulling Ron back to his seat by the scruff of his robes.

"Do not. Ron is being _childish_."

Without meaning it, Hermione had just stuck up for her. Trust her to take any opportunity to argue with Ron, but for once their bickering had just worked in his favour.

A short and awkward silence followed that confrontation. Daphne's stern eyes fell on each of them, expecting another attack to come from one of them. Ron was scrunched up in his seat where Hermione threw him, who herself had gone back to holding her arms over her chest in judgemental fashion.

Everybody was waiting for someone else to speak first. He should be happy nobody was arguing anymore, but he wasn't, because this was just about the worst case scenario he could have imagined.

"_This is just bloody awkward!" _

Ron had spoken in a stage whisper. He'd tried to pretend it was a hushed comment to Hermione, but had said it openly and loudly enough for everyone to hear. With her eyes remaining locked firmly on Daphne, she whispered back to him in an equally loud whisper.

"At least we are making conversation, which is more than _you _are doing!"

"I'm not about to pretend! All this '_oooo, did you get anythin' nice for christmas_' bollocks? Bog off."

"We _promised _Harry we would make an effort, now will you please stop being such a brat!?"

"How the bloody hell am I being a brat?"

That probably made it his responsibility to cheer everyone up a little.

Daphne slowly brought herself back in her seat. Although it was only for a moment, she seemed instantly relaxed the attention was now off of her.

"You two bicker shouldn't bicker on my account... " she said dismissively.

It took all Harry's effort not to fall backwards off his chair at that He shouldn't have been so surprised at her extending a basic, common courtesy, but it went so far in the opposite direction of the conversation that he couldn't help his mouth drooping open a few inches.

Hermione let out a drawn out sigh, directly entirely at Ron.

"You'll find it's actually something quite common these days, actually."

But the mood has already changed. It no longer felt like a showdown between two swordsmen now. Well, it still did, but now it felt between Ron and Hermione instead.

Regardless, what was done was done and they were not in an aggressive situation anymore. Nothing had been left for anyone to naturally respond to. A change of topic was definitely due, but he didn't know it was the best idea he led with it again. Again, Harry fought a pained expression on his face.

There was a creeping feeling inside him that he had just witnessed something truly Slytherin. That wasn't just a common courtesy she'd said. Was there a chance Daphne had picked up on the animosity between them two and used it to her advantage? Did she draw attention to it specifically to derail their conversation? Harry doubted at, but at the same time, couldn't help but feel impressed and infinitely intimidated over the prospect.

After a few moments of shared heavy breathing, Hermione was again the one to take the lead.

"Well, then! How did you and Harry meet, Greengrass? Or should I call you Daphne?"

"Greengrass."

She, again, looked like she'd just received a very quick pain in the stomach. Harry glared across the table at Daphne. One victory was often all it took for her to get on the high horse. This time though, she elected not to see him.

"We served a detention with Professor Snape together. After that I took up tutoring him in Potions. We grew closer and then eventually agreed to give a relationship a try."

Hermione stifled with an amused laugh.

"Don't suppose _you're_ the one who gave him that book, are you?"

Harry's head snapped across the table to her.

"What book?" she asked.

"Haven't you told her?"

He suddenly started feeling reluctant about turning to face the two girls.

"It's nothing. Just an old book I found. It's not a big deal."

But he knew the second it was mentioned that it was useless. Hermione had been chasing him up about that at any opportunity she had, and he didn't stand a chance at withholding information from Daphne. He became very aware of the book's placement in the bag beside his feet.

Hermione gestured to his girlfriend.

"Show it to her."

The full eyes of the argument were now on him. Part of him did want to share his latest interest with her, but another part of him was scared how she would react to it. Daphne had such a prim and proper way about her and would probably turn her nose up upon merely looking at the book. She'd probably say everything to him that Hermione had already said, but with five times the conviction and enough charm that he'd probably actually listen to her.

When he didn't move, she gestured again. Daphne began looking worried.

"Show me, Harry."

The look on her face made him cave. Whatever secrets the books held and however handy it had become to him, it simply was not worth starting an argument over. Especially not when things were so close to being all worked out.

He pulled his book bag off the floor and handed over the scrappy book. As expected, her face was one of repulsion as she took it in her hands.

"Whoever did this to a book is _despicable_."

She flicked through a few pages and noticed the graffiti immediately. As she slowed down to read it, he watched the look on her face begin to change.

"... But they _seem_ to know what they are doing... This is very interesting..."

After a few more moments of this she finally looked up at him.

"May I borrow this?"

He had to resist the urge to smile, not just at the complete one-eighty of her attitude, but at the resulting noise Hermione made in response. Her idea had backfired, and Daphne taking his side felt extremely validating.

Hermione leaned and pointed.

"And the front page."

As she turned to the appropriate page, Hermione began to speak to the group as a whole.

"The Half Blood Prince. We can't figure out for the life of us who that is. There are no Princes in Europe with magical blood and definitely none of them attended Hogwarts. The only royal that I can find ever attending the school died in the seventeenth century, hundreds of years before the book's author was even born."

With her face buried, Daphne spoke without looking up.

"Prince isn't a title, it's a name."

For such a simple sentence, it had no business silencing the scene as much as it did. Harry and Ron's faces dropped; one could hear a pin drop on the other side of the castle. Daphne apparently noticed the sudden change of atmosphere and looked concerned, before her eyes narrowed.

"You _are _aware Prince is a common pureblood last name?"

Hermione looked as though her very world had ended. And nobody could blame her, either. To be hot off the heels on an argument like that, only to immediately have the other person's point proven right… He had never been so glad that he wasn't in someone else's shoes before.

Daphne leaned in, away from the ears of Madam Pince and with an unmistakable smugness on her lips.

"I'm not _saying _purebloods have a better grasp of the magical world than muggleborns do, but you're certainly proving that case fairly well."

He expected Hermione to explode at that, but the opposite, she remained still as a statue. She might as well have been petrified. The sheer look of embarrassment on her face almost made him want to look away and spare her the shame, but he absolutely couldn't. Though Daphne was absolutely in the wrong for what she called her earlier, it did feel good to see Hermione finally be caught out like that.

Ron nudged her.

"_Have _we checked to see Prince as a last name?"

She finally cracked. She shook her head, signalling her return to the room, and began rapidly packing up her things around her.

"No, I have not. I will get on that right away," she mumbled.

Daphne shook her head.

"That's embarrassing."

The venom in her voice was enough to cut the air of the classroom in half. Hermione's chair was slammed quickly down into the table. She left the area, understandably in a bad mood but managing to pretend she was calm.

He could feel Daphne's eyes burning into the side of his head. He smiled back at her.

"That could have gone worse?"

If he had been expecting her to grudgingly agree, he was expecting too much. Her glare doesn't falter at all.

"From the bottom of my heart, please - with all earnest - never have an idea again."

That actually earned her a chuckle from Ron.

At this point Harry tried to strike a balance between being quiet enough to not draw attention to himself but loud enough to drown out everyone else. Hermione had been the mitigatior of that, he didn't want to think what kind of argument could arise between Ron and Daphne without her. Instead he began trying to think of a way out. Progress had been made after all that, today wasn't a complete waste.

He opened his mouth to say something but realised there was no point. He frowned, but they don't seem to notice his discontent. If anything they both looked significantly more relaxed now.

"So, get anything nice for Christmas?" Ron asked with a surprising level of cheer in his tone

And to Harry's shock, Daphne cracked a coy grin of her own. He is more than a little surprised by the sudden change in conversation, and is unable to do anything other than stare blankly at her.

Had she really been able to use Ron and Hermione's argument to simultaneously make peace with them both, while also pitting them against the other?

It took her a moment to collect herself, appreciating the change in topic.

"A few nice items. Harry gave me a rather charming locket. Yourself?"

"Not much. House burnt down. Got some sick socks, though."

He couldn't help but notice that, since she shut Hermione down so spectualory, Ron was no longer arguing with her. He hated the pettiness of that, but again, it was working to his advantage for now.

After that the evening seemed to fly by. Not much more was said, he and Ron took over the conversation while Daphne fell more into the listener role. They talked about their new lessons, Qudditch, Prefect duties and just about every other safe and unproblematic subject Harry could think of. Daphne maintained her politeness through all of this, but he could tell she was running low on steam since Hermione had left.

To be honest, curfew was nearly due to be called and since Hermione left, the life of the conversation had died down anyway. That had reached the peak of it and had been on a steady decline since then. It was obvious after her storming off that eventually, either Ron or Harry would have to go after her, and Ron begrudgingly volunteered. He definitely seemed to be the one who had come out of this meeting the better off, and he even gave Daphne a wave as he disappeared into the aisles after Hermione.

"You did well, really."

This time when he brought his hand down to her shoulder, she didn't fight it. She wobbled a bit on the spot, and then leaned softly against him

"I called her a mudblood. Twice," she answered without looking his way.

"You apologised, that's what's important. You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean it."

The perfect answer he could give, and a true one as well.

She nodded slowly, looking very unamused.

"First steps… first steps…" she mumbled, but Harry got the feeling she was talking more to herself than him.

* * *

_A/N __Thank you all for the feedback on my video! I've recently published a second one on the same channel, this time talking more broadly about the concept of Harry Potter fanfiction. And if anyone reading this doesn't know what I'm talking about, I recently put out a video essay on Daphne Greengrass, it's on Youtube under the title "The Most Popular HP Character You've Never Heard Of" and channel name is Hadley! Thank you all again!_


	28. Prodigal One Returns

In the coming weeks, January slowly faded into February and Gryffindor won against Huffelpuff in the first match of the new term. For Tracey, that was fantastic news. She was looking forward to the idea of a rematch against Harry for the Quidditch Cup - but that would largely come as a result of how today would be.

"_WEEEEEEE LIKE TO PLAY WITH DAVIS, CAUSE DAVIS IS OUR MATE! AND WHEN WE PLAY WITH DAVIS, SHE GETS IT CAUGHT IN EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!"_

Today Slytherin had it's second match of the term and if they lost this one, they were out of running for the cup. Not only that, but because of their previous loss, it meant even if she caught the snitch and won them one hundred and fifty points, they would still be sixty behind. So if they won in less than perfect conditions, they would still be out of the finals. The odds were working against them today, definitely. The pressure was on. Even though there was only so much that she personally could do to help the scoring, it also meant when it was her time, everything would be riding on her.

"_FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! EYYYYYYYY!"_

They went early up to breakfast that morning. Even though they were the only ones up at that time, they managed to make enough noise that one would be mistaken thinking the hall was already full. Crabbe and Goyle were dealing with the pressure by singing as loud and obnoxious as they could, with Harper and Pucey laughing with them. On the opposite end was Blaise, who sat in silence to get himself into the zone and Graham, the team Captain, who ushered everyone to eat as much as they could. Tracey nibbled on some toast - she knew the extra baggage was the last thing she needed today.

_"WEEEE LIKE TO WIN WITH DAVIS, CAUSE DAVI-"_

"SHUT- shut up! Right, this is our last chance - _my _last chance - for a shot at the Quidditch cup! Chang will be at her peak! It's her last year as well so she'll be determined for a win. If it comes to it, play dirty! We can't let Ravenclaw stand in the way of the rematch against Gryffindor!"

Graham Montague was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and thus there was depreciation in his voice. Shortly after he spoke, his eyes flickered to hers. He gave a nodd, as if asking for confirmation.

He may have been the captain, but _she _was the one that called the shots around here. Smiling, she nodded back at him.

"I ain't worried about Cho. S'long as you lot make sure we're sixty points up before I get the snitch. Better not let me down."

_"EYYYYYYYYYYY!"_

The team positively went wild around her.

She was unused to this feeling. She was unused to being the popular one. She was the only girl on the team and the other hulking members sat around her like praetorian guards. As much as she liked to pretend it was because she was a pretty girl and they all fancied her, she knew that wasn't true. She was getting the attention because she was bloody good on a broomstick. Ever since showing them what she could do they had treated her practically like the second coming. They weren't used to having a genuine skilled player on the team - even after she lost their first match, their attitudes towards her hadn't changed. They were absolutely convinced she was the one who'd lead them to victory and it was a role she was more than happy to fill.

However, that pressure wasn't what was causing the gooey feeling inside her this morning. The attention was nice, but there was something far larger lingering on her mind. Not only was today Slytherin's match against Ravenclaw, but it would also be the first time Daphne would see her play properly. She had been coming to watch them practise twice a week and, surprising everyone, even seemed invested in their chances at winning. If Tracey won today, she wouldn't just be validating everything the team thought about her, but she'd also be winning in front the entire school as well. It was about more than just having fun - this was about proving herself just as worthy as Daphne, and the breadwinner in the eyes of Dom.

It was on that note, as nervous as she was, that she finally started to feel the excitement only a Quidditch match could bring. The match started at half eleven, so at quarter to, as the usual students were beginning to drain into the Great Hall, they set off down to the changing rooms. As they went they received scattered rounds of applause from their housemates. The feeling that surged her system as people broke into smiles and cheered at the sight of her would be one that followed her the rest of her life.

High on dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, endorphins and just about any and every other positive emotion she could feel at the moment, her head was held high as they ventured into the grounds. Crabbe and Goyle continued to sing loudly on their way down, occasionally swapping each of the team members' names into their lyrics. And their positivity was well warranted - the weather couldn't have been more ideal. Winter hadn't entirely slipped away, but the snow had melted and the grounds were still and quiet. No visibility problems and not a breath of wind to be heard. Even the Whomping Willow was still and placid-looking. In weather like this she would make short work of Cho Chang's Comet Two-Sixty broom.

Today was going to be perfect, she could feel it.

As they filtered in, she broke away from the rest, into the girl's changing room. It was functionally part of the same room as the boys changing room, only with a neck-height wood separating them. Graham began his rally speech.

"WE KNOW WHAT TODAY MEANS TO US, LADS! IF WE BUGGER THIS UP WE'RE OUT OF THE RUNNING! PUCEY, HARPER AND BLAISE ARE GOING TO WIN US THOSE SIXTY POINTS, AREN'T YA LADS?"

_"AYE-AYE!"_

"_BUT _THEY CAN'T DO THAT IF THEY HAVE A BLUDGER UP THEIR ARSE THE ENTIRE TIME! CRABBE, GOYLE! I WANT YOU TO TAKE THOSE BATS AND KNOCK CHING CHANG BACK TO BLOODY CHINATOWN WHERE SHE BELONGS!"

_"EYYYYYYYYYY!"_

Tracey bit her tongue at the racism. She knew calling him on it would be more trouble than it was worth. If Chang had been with them at the moment it might have been different, but for now she simply pretended she hadn't heard it. Graham swung on her next.

"AND YOU! YOU GORGEOUS GIRL!"

It was a good job the half barrier was up - he chose the exact moment she stood in only a sports bra to drag attention her way. Then again, he was probably somehow aware of that. The lads ogled her over the barrier, their imagination filling in the blanks of what they couldn't see.

"LOSE US THAT SNITCH AND WE'LL BURN YOU LIKE YOUR FILTHY MUDBLOOD MOTHER!"

Graham burst into laughter at his own joke. Crabbe and Goyle joined in, but the others looked cautiously between her and him, checking they were allowed to laugh at that.

Tracey eyed him

"How is Andy doin', Graham? Haven't seen him in a while. Do give him a kiss for me won't ya?"

_"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!"_

The team erupted around him. They jumped in place and bounced wildly around each other, as Graham's face became sullen. He leaned in, talking with a serious, alibet fragile whisper.

"Have you _shagged _my dad?"

She grinned harder back at him.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

He fell back, but was then snatched up by the rest of the team, who threw him uselessly between themselves. Smiling to herself, Tracey went back to getting changed, removing her wand from her pants pocket and swapping it into her Quidditch uniform.

She most certainly hadn't shagged Graham's dad. But Graham didn't know that. And now she had that over him. If anyone came for her mum, she'd come back at them with the fury of a thousand Horntails.

Slowly each of her teammates simmered down as they changed into their emerald robes, the atmosphere of the game ahead now beginning to occur. The stadium could be heard beginning to fill up around now. Daphne, Dom and Harry would all be out there - picturing them all in facepaint, hats and scarfs as they cheered for her was an unrealistic prospect, but the idea of it brought a big smile to her face. On that note, Tracey wondered if any of her team were feeling like she was; as though she'd had something extremely wiggly for breakfast.

Changed and ready, she joined the lads as they fell into line and Graham began to rehearse their tactics. It was the same tactics they'd heard a dozen times before, and that she'd even help create, but the reassurance was comforting. But as he was nearing the end of their hypothetical perfect match, something unexpected happened. Though Severus Snape was the head of Slytherin house, Tracey had never seen him enter the changing rooms before. What didn't help the grave turn of events either, was the fact that Draco came in behind him

The group fell quiet. Graham approached nervously, knowing he was definitely not here to wish them luck.

"What's up, Professor?"

Snape's eyes crept over each of them individually, judging. Then he stepped aside and gestured to Draco, who looked bored.

"Mister Malfoy has informed me his prior arrangements are over and as such, he has time to rejoin your team."

Graham shook his head quickly, gesturing her way.

"Sorry, Professor, we've already got a new seeker. Davis is fantastic, no chance we're letting her go."

There was a unanimous nodding and mumbling of agreement. Draco didn't seem to mind this, until he noticed that Crabbe and Goyle were nodding the most, then his face turned to a sour scowl.

"She'll make an excellent reserve for Mister Malfoy, then."

The Professor spoke like it was the simplest thing in the world. He treated it so casually that the connotations were taking a while to strike Tracey what they meant. But Graham simply wasn't having it.

"You can't just do that!"

He took a step back, faking a look of shock.

"Oh, I am sorry... there I was thinking that I was the Head of Slytherin House?"

At this point Graham's face changed as the reality seemed to dawn on him. He looked like he was going to faint. The group burst to life around them, shouting in protest. Even Crabbe and Goyle looked to have turned on their master.

"She has done nothing wrong! You can't just take her off minutes before the match starts! She's been working hard for this!" a chorus of voices struck.

Finally, he rounded on her. She hadn't said anything yet, but he wasted no time coming at her like she was the only one arguing with him.

"Miss Davis, is it or is it not true that you were brought on as replacement Seeker during Mister Malfoy's absence?"

She stuttered before answering.

"Yes, but-"

"And is Mister Malfoy back, now?"

With energy equalling Graham's, Blaise shielded her behind his back.

"She's so much better than him! Why are you trying to sabotage your own house's chances of winning?"

But Snape sealed the distance, stepping forward with the menacing glare he had become known for.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Zabini, but I seem to remember a fair few Slytherin wins under Malfoy was Seeker. Would you do me the favour of refreshing my memory and telling me how many times _Davis _has caught us the snitch?"

Harker was the next to leap to her side.

"She's only played one match!"

"And she _lost _that match, if I'm correct?"

Despite everyone in the team rushing to her support, it did nothing to halt the sweeping of anger and sadness suddenly flooding her system. Her knees began to buckle beneath her.

As her teammates ran out of things to say, Snape took a step back, satisfied. With that, he left them to pick up the pieces of their team. Nobody was looking at Draco.

"ARSEHOLE!" Graham shouted after him, though only after making sure he was long out of hearing distance.

Slowly, they each turned towards her. Blaise was who she was closest to on the team, through their shared status as a minority in an intolerant world, and only one in Slytherin house other than Daphne she'd consider a good friend. He spoke first, and brought a tight grip to her arm.

""Trace, I'm sorry…"

"It's fine. It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. It was anything but fine. She was one of the lads. Just as hard and just as tough as the rest of them. They were most definitely not about to see the tears she could feel in her eyes.

"You guys do well… Stick to the plan…"

But it was all she was able to mumble out before her voice died, and she had to rush back out the changing room the way she came.

* * *

Hatred such as one she'd never known was coursing through her system.

She had no idea how she'd ended up by the Black Lake. She had started walking away from the changing rooms, her broom still in her hand, and kept going until she couldn't any more. Her head was pounding with the conversation she'd just heard.

She could see it right now, as clear as a cinema screen, Draco throwing himself off his broom at the last minute and catching the snitch. The stadium erupted in applause. Him laughing as he claims the victory. Her victory. Her applause. Her praise. Her validation.

She finally came to a stop when she reached the shore. She let her knees go, her broom fell pathetically to the floor and she fell into a cross legged position on the stony shoreline. Then she picked up a sizeable stone and with all her might and a morbid grunt, launched it into the lake. It splashed with a deep noise that reverberated across the grounds.

Finally, though the barrier of nonchalance she often had up, raw emotions were flooding through. There was a burning hot heaviness in her chest that was progressively becoming harder to bear.

She swung her head back and looked to the sky, slowing sucking in quick breaths. She tried muffling her cries as they came out - they seemed obnoxiously loud and obvious while out here on her own. She hated that she was an ugly crier. She imagined the way Daphne cried - not that she thought for a second she was capable of it - and pictured her stoned face, a slight dip in her brow and a lone tear making its way down her face. And then there was her, choking on her own tears and wiping the snot from her nose with a robe sleeve that wasn't hers.

She picked up another stone, but didn't throw it. Instead she squeezed it as hard as she could, imagining it to be Draco's head and popping under the immense amount of pressure she was subjecting it to. She didn't even know if she hated Snape for kicking her off the team, hated Draco for his role in it or hated herself for responding like this. God, she was pathetic.

So solemnly, she sat there. Time didn't feel like it existed outside of where she was. The changing room felt like seconds ago, yet the minutes since had simultaneously been the longest few of her life. It was probably for that reason her guard dropped enough that she wasn't able to hear the duo of footsteps approaching, ten minutes later.

"TRACEY!"

Like glass shattering around her, she was catapulted to the real world. She turned suddenly and, to her surprise, came face to face with a giant golden eyed serpent. She jumped on the spot.

"OH BLOODY 'ELL!"

Then, she spotted Dom's face inside the snake's mouth. She was wearing a large and obnoxious Slytherin hat, one that covered her entire head and only showed her face through the snake's large open mouth. Recovering from the scare, she spotted Daphne by their side.

"What on earth are you doing out here!?"

She was the one who had called out to her, and looked the most furious she ever had in her life. At the sight of her friends, Tracey dropped her rage, but her chest continued to rise and fall quickly. She did her best to look innocent, all too aware of her sweaty face and cheeks shining with fresh tears.

"Hey, guys."

But the state they'd caught her in was apparent to both the girls - their faces twisted around unpleasantly.

"What's wrong?" Daphne asked quickly.

She didn't answer her, but did give a small smile back.

"What did you do?" she then asked as a follow up.

Tracey chewed the inside of her cheek.

How predictable to assume _she'd_ done something wrong. Everything always was her fault, after all. Well this time _she _hadn't done something wrong. For just about the first time in her life, she had thrown her full effort, passion and determination into something she truly loved. For the first time, she'd actually tried to go about doing things the proper way.

She tried organising her feelings, though it was futile. Even she didn't understand why she was reacting this way and attempting to just made her feel even worse. She just wanted to unload. She wanted to yell something very loud and very rude.

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHIN'! THEY JUST LET HIM BACK IN!"

Her words echoed alone over the surface of the lake. Dom recoiled, but Daphne's face didn't falter from the usual scowl it held.

"Stop shouting. Explain to me what happened."

But she didn't want to stop shouting.

"SNAPE! HE JUST LET HIM BACK IN! DIDN'T ASK ME OR ANYTHIN! I CAME _TO _EVERY PRACTISE, I TRAINED EVERYONE! I WAS THE BEST ON THE _BLOODY _TEAM! THEN TEN MINUTES BEFORE AND THEY JUST LET HIM BACK IN LIKE IT'S NOTHING!"

Daphne squinted, trying to decipher her meaning.

"You're kicked off the team?" she asked, incredulously. "What happened?"

"NOTHING _HAPPENED_! I BEHAVED! I DID EVERYTHING THE WAY I WAS SUPPOSED TO!"

"That's… that's… What does your team say?"

"THEY ALL WANTED ME TO STAY!"

"I'm not going to ask you to stop shouting again."

Daphne's words had an air of finality about them.

Tracey sat back, no doubt her feelings written all over her face. Daphne moved to perch herself on a nearby boulder, while Dom dropped down into the pebbles with her. She tried vaguely to fumble her mess of emotions into words she knew how to say.

"I was gonna do _so _well..." she mumbled.

Daphne nodded sharply and without missing a beat.

"I believe you,"

"We only lost against Gryffindor 'cause Harry's broom is better than mine! Cho has the Comet Two-Sixty! She wouldn't stand a chance against me... I'm gonna absolutely kill Draco for this."

"_Please_ do not start any trouble."

Her temper peaked again.

"He's a spoiled dick! I'm sick to death of him thinkin' he can just take what he likes! Blaise isn't gonna to be happy about this! He's gonna give him what he was comin', and I'm gonna help!"

"Draco is _not _somebody you need working against you! Take my word on that."

"Cut the cryptic bull, Daffy! Everyone knows what he is!"

Since sitting, she had been fiddling with something in her pocket for a few moments and finally seemed to have wrangled it. She produced a silver embroidered handkerchief and offered it politely her way.

After a second of stubborn hesitation, she took it and dried her eyes. Almost completely drowned out by the wind and the sound of the lake, Dom spoke quietly.

"I think he is rather sweet…"

Tracey went to round on her, but Daphne beat her to it, glaring with that terrifying face of she knew how to pull.

"Shut. Up."

Dom shrank back, but not completely away.

"'E does 'ave a sensitive side, though!" she tried back.

Tracey's distaste finally made its way up her throat and out her mouth. She looked at Dom with a rare gaze of contempt.

"Well why don't you go cheer for _him_, then?"

But as soon as it left her mouth, she left bad. She just liked Dom too much to stay mad at her, even though she was coming out with rubbish like that. Tracey's shoulders slumped and she sighed pathetically.

"Sorry… I was gonna to win in front of everyone and it was gonna be a big deal!"

She shouldn't be taking out on her friends what she knew was her personal issue. Truth be told, this was about way more than simply winning the match. She had a chance today to prove herself. She had a chance to stand on her own and become the person she wanted to be. She had a chance to earn her place in the world. And she'd been robbed of it.

There was a reason Tracey was so interested in Daphne's love affair, and why she was so into Dom. It was the same reason she even became an animagius in the first place. All out of sheer boredom and curiosity. Daphne and Harry seeing each other was exciting and dangerous. Dom had mysterious and aloof quality about her. Her life was spent eternally searching for a passion she could love and spend the rest of her life doing. Anything to spruce up her pathetically dull life. And just as she finally thought she had found it, it had been snatched away right under her nose. Wasn't she allowed anything?

Dom then decided to try and fix her verbal boo-boo from earlier.

"If you love zhe Qudditch zo much, why 'ave you not joined before?"

Tracey struggled to word her insecurities in a way that didn't make her sound like the vulnerable baby she knew she was being.

"I've always loved Qudditch, I'm genuinely good at it! I just never joined 'cause I knew I'd have no chance, not with Draco on it. No chance they'd pick me for a seeker over him, not when his dad bloody goes and get the whole team new brooms! And look now, the second he's back, I'm traded out for him! He's such an arsehole, it's bullshit! I have half a mind to transform and go screw with the match!"

Daphne tutted.

"That'll only get you in trouble. And found out."

Tracey slumped sluggishly. She was right - if she was discovered as an unregistered animagi, it'd be a little more than one Qudditch match she would miss out on.

She went to turn away from Daphne and go back to staring out over the lake, but something caught her eye. Though Dom looked cute in her large snake hat, her attention was being drawn to how Daphne had prepared for the match. Wrapped in her hand, gently blowing in the wind, was a small green and silver flag. It was obviously the kind audiences waved around in excitement, and the very last accessory she ever imagined her holding. Her eyes lingered a little too long, and Daphne noticed.

"Dominique had a spare! I thought - !" she spoke quickly, as if embarrassed by such a thing.

Tracey gave her first genuine smile in what felt like all day.

"Thank you, Daffy. It means a lot."

Her half sister's irritation gave way to an awkward and unsuccessful attempt to hide her feelings. Seconds tick by and Tracey watched her, trying to read her face, which had an odd mixture written on it. She seemed annoyed by all of this, but also somewhat confused. Like she was merely a mask, and the real her was a million miles away from their conversation.

Daphne really didn't deal well with personal topics - Tracey was surprised she'd gotten this far. When had she ever had to play the supportive one in their relationship? Put bluntly, the girl was emotionally retarded.

Beside her, Dom tentatively brushed her hand through the pebbles. In comparison, her presence was oddly small compared to Daphne's. Like her involvement in the conversation was only as an afterthought. It wasn't the role anyone she had to be; the third wheel. Both of the girls, clearly, were not comfortable with this turn of events. Daphne, while her heart was in the right place, was completely out of her depth. And Dom was catching up on years-worth of problems that she hadn't lived through. They were here supporting her though, even if it was at their own expense.

And those few seconds of those self aware thoughts were all she needed.

"Tell you what though - these pants are super tight! Look how nice they make my legs look!"

Both girls' heads raised abruptly. Daphne scoffed and Dom giggled, but it wasn't nearly as embarrassed of a reaction as she was hoping to get. So, she stepped it up a notch. Standing up, she stomped a foot between the two of them and slapped her thigh muscle through her pants, letting her entire leg jiggle in place.

"See? Go on, fancy a squeeze?"

Cringing, Daphne swivelled on the spot so she was facing out towards the lake. Dom laughed loudly. That was more like what she was hoping for. Satisfied, she brought her leg away.

"Why are you always so crass?" Daphne asked, shaking her head.

She pushed a prideful laugh from her the core chest, which echoed loudly across the grounds.

"Comedy is the key to anyone's heart, Padawan! _And _having a great butt helps too."

Daphne continued to look like she wanted to apparate out of there. Dom chimed in from beside.

"You make zhe jokes so zhat people like you?"

They both looked to Dom in unison.

The seriousness of her words made Tracey take a moment to respond. Surrendering her obnoxious front, she awkwardly scratched the back of her neck.

"That was deep, alright then. No… not necessarily so people _like _me, I just like makin' folks laugh."

Dom nodded, understanding.

"Comedy iz your defence," she said, then turned to Daphne. "Zhe same as you use being scary as one."

A long silence followed her abrupt and very harsh criticism. True as her words were, Daphne seemed horrifically offended by the allegation, and scrunched her nose like she'd smelt something nasty. She gave a derisive snort, as long bottled-up feelings came to a head.

"And you use being naive as yours?" she replied with a tone of accusation.

At this response, Dom was suddenly very quiet.

Daphne never set false pretences about how she felt about Dom - Tracey knew she only tolerated her out of respect for her. But Dom also hadn't done anything to warrant Daphne disliking her, and Tracey would stand up for that. She was impressed they had gotten this long into the year without Daphne saying something unforgivably rude to her.

She sought to mitigate the tension.

"Hey - we're all in Slytherin for a reason. We have our own ways of dealin' with things. Better people laugh at me than them hate me though, right?"

Daphne let her guard back down - not that her face showed it.

"Touche, Padawan."

She laughed abruptly, frowning.

"Don't say that word like you know what it means."

That part of the conversation was over, but she knew there was more that needed to be said. She didn't usually respond to stuff like this. She wasn't a crier, in fact it was very rarely she ever lost a situation she was in. Her behaviour would require explanation. Her team was still going to win - Draco had an even better broom than she did. So was she being selfish by being upset about that?

No, she knew all too well why she was as pissed as she was. A large part was _why _she'd been dismissed so casually from today's game - nobody ever took her seriously. That was why she never had any trouble following her, unlike Daphne. Nobody saw her as a threat. Nobody wanted to date the class clown, and nobody saw them as a danger.

Though she was previously unaware of it, the thought occurred to her now, maybe that was why today seemed so important? And why she responded so badly to being kicked from the team? It wasn't about Slytherin winning the cup - it was about proving herself. This was her chance to finally break the mold. To earn her place in the world. This was her chance to be taken seriously as a person. To make Dominique fall for her, to make Daphne to respect her, and for others to make her realise she was more than just the sidekick. She had a chance to change that, gotten excited for it, only for it to be wrongfully taken away.

A long silence hung in the air between them all. The noise from the lake and the distant chirping of birds made the scene feel strange, disconnected and alien.

Her heart had finally run out. What she said next was from the bottom of her heart, and with no filtered comedy.

"I'm sick of bein' a side character. There's nothin' special' about me. Everythin' I do is to try and give my life some reason or cause."

Daphne gave a small sigh, as if to quickly brush her feelings away.

"You are not a side character. You're an extremely important part of both our lives. I certainly wouldn't be where I am without you."

Tracey looked down, seeing herself reflected in the dark water of the Black Lake. Her hair was the longest it ever was right now. Any longer and she'd actually begin to look like a girly girl. She should definitely have taken her mum up on the offer for a haircut before the holidays. Even the small bit of blonde she had on her fringe was threatening to escape from under her beanie.

"You've got that edgy romance going on in your life..." she spoke to the reflection. "Poetic bullshit about heart over mind! You have a drive… And Dom is french! What do _I _have going for me? What, I'm bisexual? That's it!"

Dom tutted loud beside her.

"Ah am a little more zhan my country, thank you!"

She could also see Daphne's reflection in the lake surface, and could see the disapproving grimace on her face, and the strong feelings of disagreement in her general direction. Tracey would never give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it, but she could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

"You've been a rock to me the past few months," she said, stern as though it was a condemnation. "I couldn't have done them without you. You've got a good heart, which is more than I can probably say for myself."

At this point, she looked up and took a long gaze out over the lake before them, her face becoming more depressed than stern. Aside from the occasional powerful gust of wind or cheer from the Qudditch pitch, it was pleasantly still. If Tracey wasn't still wearing her Quidditch robes, she'd probably be freezing. The wind was a lot stronger by the surface of the lake than it was near the pitch. Daphne seemed completely unfazed by it, but Dom had been gently shivering since they had arrived.

Tracey wanted to respond to that, but felt useless. That kind of honest vulnerability from her half-sister was a rare one and she simply didn't have the experience to know the right thing to say back. So, she decided to fall back on her oldest, most faithful success streak.

"Oh bog off!" she laughed. "Self depreciation doesn't make others feel better 'bout themselves! But consider it noted! I'm not a literal nazi, that's good to know! That's _a _redeeming quality, I suppose. Christ, You two are awful at making me feel better. Why do I even hang around with you?"

Dom leaned in with a giggle, pushing her shoulder against hers. As much as that brought a flutter to her heart, it was seeing Daphne give a chuckle that felt the most like a personal victory for her.

"What time is it?"

Dom looked at her watch, being the only one in their group to carry one.

"Ten to twelve."

Daphne clearly had the same idea.

"The match will be over. Shall we go to the castle?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. There was nothing left to be said out here, and the cold was beginning to seep through her uniform.

"I guess."

As she brought herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her legs, Daphne tired offering more words of reassurance.

"With any luck, maybe he won't be around for the next match? That way you can still compete for the cup?"

But whatever effect she had been hoping for, wasn't the one she got.

As soon as Tracey had stood up, a bubbling rage had begun to brew inside her.

Was she really just going to accept the fate that had been handed to her? Was her entire existence just going to consist of making other people's stories brighter? No, she deserved more than that. No amount of consolation could convince her that sitting down and accepting it was the right thing to do.

She would make herself happy. She would take what was rightfully hers.

"Tracey?"

She ignored her. With a new found inhibition, she gripped her broom tightly in her hand and began off back towards the castle.

* * *

"Tracey! Whatever you are doing, I'm asking you very calmly to think about this!"

Daphne was still being ignored by the time the trio had safely returned to the warmth of the dungeons. In a panic, she tried forcing herself in front of Tracey.

"I am a Prefect and I will have to step in!" she warned.

But she was no match for the ex-Slytherin seeker, who manoeuvred around her like it was nothing.

They found the common room alive with activity when they entered - apparently it hadn't taken the team long to get over her. They were in the midst of a impromptu party, with Graham, Blaise and Draco being hailed at it's centre. If Tracey was any less angry she might have seen the venomous glare Dom was giving to Pansy, who was currently attached to Draco's arm live an oversized leech. The attention gradually weened off it's victors, however, and fell onto the three new occupants.

A stunned hush fell over the common room as Tracey approached Draco, who stared curiously up at her from his position on the settee. She came to a stop in front of her, placed her foot on the arm of his chair and leaned closed to his face. She looked like she was going for a whisper, but she spoke loud enough for the whole room to here.

"You better watch your back."

She spoke in a tone quite like one anyone had ever heard from her before.

Draco didn't move, but squinted his eyes.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You 'eard me. Be careful out there, Draco. Dangerous world we're living in these days."

Without waiting for a response, she pushed herself back up off the settee and took towards the girls dormitories. Silence followed in her wake. She caught a few shocked faces from the corner of her eye on the way out. Daphne and Dom were quick to follow her up.

"That was a mistake," Daphne was quick to tell her.

Tracey smirked. Even from this distance, she could tell the common room was still quiet.

Now she knew what it felt like to be feared.

"No, it wasn't."

* * *

_Silence is Betrayal. Stand With Us. BLM. _


	29. Home Turf Advantage

The next day, Daphne brought herself up from the dungeons alone after finding Tracey still locked in her room.

Yesterday had been awkward - she severely felt she had let her best friend down. Tracey had been there for her during her break down, but now, when it had been time for the goodwill to be returned, she simply hadn't known what to say. Unless she could somehow get her position in the Quidditch team reinstated, which she doubted, she didn't see much she could do. Her influences definitely didn't reach that far, Prefect privileges had absolutely no say over what happened to the schools sports team team. Offering Tracey the time alone for self reflection may not have been the most generous gesture, but it was the one she decided on. Isolation did wonders for Daphne, so maybe the emotional distancing could help Tracey this occasion as well?

When she arrived at the house table that morning she found the other members of the Quidditch team having seemingly recovered from Tracey being stole from them. They were back to their usual jovial business, cracking inappropriate jokes and laughing far louder than necessary. She spotted Astoria a few seats up, though she was with a large group of her friends and thought it best not to bother them. Dominique was nowhere in sight, but she didn't much feel like spending time with her anyways. There was a great deal of muttering as she found her seat, but with relief, none of it was directed at her. So with her usual friendship group absent, she was able to seat herself down on the furthest corner and began tucking into breakfast peacefully.

Peacefully, that was, until the owl post arrived and a large letter with a very recognisable red stamp landed in front of her. Quick as a flash, she ripped her wand from her sleeve pocket and pinned the letter against the table with it.

"_Finite Incantatem!"_

The letter stopped twitching under her wand and became still. She snatched it up before those around her had a chance to notice and pushed it through the gaps in her shirt.

"Zhat was a '_urleuse_?" asked from behind.

Dominique had arrived from somewhere and been able to catch the action just in time.

"It's… one from my father," she answered quickly, as she finished stuffing the dead howler into her bra.

The girl settled down quite suddenly beside her.

"_Est-il en colère contre toi?_"

While the Prefect-side of Daphne was happy that Dominique felt comfortable talking to her in her native tongue so readily, the Daphne-side of Daphne was getting increasingly bothered by it. Deciding between the two, she nodded in agreement, but otherwise spoke in English.

"We're not on speaking terms at the minute," she answered curtly.

Though it was clear Dominique was concerned, she made it apparent it wasn't a topic she wanted to discuss further. The girl acknowledged this, settled in beside her and began to eat.

"Where iz Tracey?"

But Daphne's mind was too busy now. The thought of the howler was preoccupying her thoughts. What could her father want with her that would warrant sending a howler? She knew he had a temper, but it had never gone that far. He usually preferred to keep any and all family troubles inside the walls of the Woodhouse, lest their name in front of others. Which left a number of reasons why he would be willing to break that rule and contact her so aggressively, and none of which spelled anything good for her.

"I don't know. We should see her in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she said, though struggling.

She was fighting not to give in to the familiar anxieties making themselves known in the palms of her hands and pit of her stomach. If she were to start self-doubting now, she'd end up chasing the rabbit. And she had been doing so much better recently. This was just another part of the healing process. After lessons, the howler would be going straight to the top of the pile of unopened letters from him. He wanted her to stay away for a while and that was exactly what she was going.

"Iz she better from yezterday?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" she repeated.

She shook her head.

"I don't know."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Dominique's eyes lingering on her. She turned to her and the two girls' met in a standoff-ish stare.

"What?"

She looked like she had a lot to say, but for some reason or another, was biting her tongue over it.

"If you have something to say, then you should most definitely say it."

"You are 'er family, no?"

"We are half sisters."

A sigh of pure loathing came quite suddenly from Dominique's throat.

"'Zhen maybe you should act like it!"

The venom in her voice stunned her so much, she wasn't able to properly respond to it until long after the french girl had gathered her things and stormed away from their table. Shocked at the outburst, she did nothing but watch the girl leave the Great Hall and take an unmistakable turning back towards the dungeons, probably going to Tracey's dorm.

For the second time this breakfast, Daphne felt herself fighting rising emotions. Now she finally had a valid reason to dislike Dominique. Who exactly did she think she was, that she had the right to tell her how to behave? She was a stranger in this castle and had absolutely no say over how it was run. It was none of her business how she and Tracey got on. Daphne took comfort in peaceful, unproblematic isolation, and was merely extending the same courtesy to Tracey right now. She saw absolutely nothing error or selfishness involved in that decision.

Though it wasn't said in specific terms as such, it was apparent that after this breakfast, whatever vague 'friendship' Daphne and Dominique had between them was now over.

* * *

Between hers and Harry's bi-weekly visits to the Room of Requirement, watching the Qudditch practise two nights a week, her new-found Prefect duties and recently reinstated nightly-runs, Daphne was left with just one night a week to get assignments done. But somehow, she wasn't feeling the strain nearly as much as before Christmas. She could feel the academics she used to hold so dear steadily slipping away and in a shocking twist of events, also found herself not much caring. She was well-versed in her subjects and still completed assignments on time, the difference was now it was without aggressively seeking the number one spot.

There were more important things to her now and when she was able to step aside from it and look at it properly, she realised she had gone way too hard, way too early. It made her cringe how much the "Best Witch in Hogwarts" badge made her happy, as though it actually meant anything. It was just a pathetic way of making herself feel better than all her peers. It was a prospect that would make her younger self faint over the thought, but she was a different person now. A better and braver one, with her morals in the right place. Now she knew where her priorities lay, and was putting all her efforts into the correct directions.

Bringing herself into their first lesson of the day, she spotted Tracey already in her seat. Charms was the only time the two of them had to themselves without Dominique lingering over their shoulder, meaning if she wanted to address what happened between them this morning, it would have to be now.

"Alright, Daffy?" Tracey asked merrily, nothing akin to her tantrum yesterday.

"Good morning. Have you spoken to Domonique?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Did she say anything?"

She looked half-hearted around them.

"That _is _how you have a conversation, yeah."

She narrowed her gaze threateningly at her.

Tracey didn't seem annoyed at her for starters, which would mean Dominique couldn't have said anything too bad on her behalf. In fact anything if, she seemed in a better mood than she was yesterday. So whatever had been said between the two was probably for the best. It was just a shame Dominique that had said it and not Daphne. She told herself she wasn't sour about that.

Physically, she shook the ill thought from her head. Chasing the rabbit again. Tracey was better than yesterday and that was all there was to it. If she was happy, then so was she. That's what friends did.

She settled herself grumpily into her seat and brought her book bag to the desk. Silence overtook as Professor Flitwick began the lesson.

The Christmas holidays were still fresh enough in everyone's head that nobody was fully readjusted to being back just yet. Mixed feelings of tiredness buzzed around the room, much to the Professors dismay. Everyone was either not yet fully awake or anticipating the hour-long break they had after this. The clock on the wall ticked slowly away at the time, until approximately half way through the lesson, a tumultuous, unusually-hard knocking rang through the room. A few people froze, few flinched awake, but everyone's head turned in the direction of the door. From his position on his desk, Professor Flitwick twirled his wand and allowed the door to open.

"Wotcher, Professor!"

Tonks appeared in the doorway, out of her casuals and wearing what was unmistakably an Auror's uniform, though it was adorned with a garish pink scarf. Then Sirius Black, wearing something similar but minus the colour, appeared with a fox-like grin behind her. Some of her classmates noticeably flinched as he showed himself. Identically, they both flashed very important-looking badges into the classroom.

"Hello, Professor. Don't mind us."

But Professor Flitwick quickly looked white in the face and was very out of breath.

"Just when I thought Hogwarts was free of it's two most infamous troublemakers... it appears they have teamed up!" he squeaked. "What can I do for you both today?"

Sirius edged into the room, beaming as he took a compliment out of what probably wasn't intended as such.

"Hoping we could borrow a student, actually! Ministry business."

"Very well, very well," the Professor stirred, "which student might you be hoping for?"

"Lady Daphne-Estelle of House Greengrass, please," Tonks answered for him.

There was a murmuring of laughter. All at once, Daphne debated if she could survive launching herself from the window sat ten feet away. She chanced a half glance at Tracey, who was smirking with energy rivalling Tonks.

"That should be quite alright. Miss Greengrass, you are excused."

She had adjusted well to life without everyone staring at her all the time. Apparently, having two aurors turn up during lesson and ask to escort you out was not the correct way to do that. She swung her bag over her shoulder, got up and headed for the door. Walking through the desks, she caught eyes and snarky grins from each direction. Though she held her head high in solidarity, she was dying internally.

"Sorry about that, Daffy," Sirius said, starting to speak the moment the door closed behind her.

She didn't quite know what to expect as she emerged around the corner, but it certainly wasn't Tonks and him rocking back and forth on their heels, looking like awkward children. Her face scrunched up.

"What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened, as such," he began, scratching his head as he tried to piece together what exactly he was trying to say. "Well, nothing _big _anyway. And what _has _happened isn't necessarily an emergency, but it is relevant to you. Not relevant to you in a _bad _way, as such, but, well, that'll really depend on how it goes. What _it _is, remains to be seen."

Not knowing what to say, she stared blankly at him. A moment later, Tonks gave a clearer answer.

"Your daddy's here."

She mustered a frown, but was too alarmed at the prospect of that to formulate a dignified response.

"What!? Why!?"

"'Says you weren't responding to his messages, so he came to see you in person."

All at once, every last bit of breath was suddenly dragged from her body.

"Merlin's Beard…"

Sirius put a firm hand over her shoulder.

"Oi - don't panic. You're completely safe with us."

But the growing worry and concern she had been fighting off all day had finally taken control.

"Did he say what he wanted?" she asked quickly.

"No clue. But look, we can tell him to piss off? You're in the Ministry's witness protection now. He's not your legal guardian anymore."

"But he doesn't _know _that, though! I need to see him, if I don't then he'll know I betrayed him! Did he seem angry? Does he know I talked?"

Tonks crossed her arms, swaying on her feet.

"_You haven't bloody talked…"_ she said scornfully.

Sirius pretended he hadn't heard her.

"He can't hurt you, Daffy. We'll be with you the whole time."

"Absolutely not! If he sees you with me then he'll know I've turned!"

"Told you she'd be awkward about it…"

The good-natured grin disappeared from his face for a second as he glared at Tonks, then returned as though it was never gone. He grabbed Daphne by the shoulder for a second - being one of the few people she would allow to do so - and pulled her away from the scene. There, huddled into a corner of the corridor, he studied her for a long moment and nodded reassuringly.

"Look here Daphne - In the Ministry eyes, he's not your guardian anymore. Now, granted, they can't take action _against _him until there's proof of his involvement with the Death Eaters, but that isn't necessary for you to receive our protection. Right now you've got an anonymous Auror protection order over you. Which means while he's a person of suspected abuse, legally, we can't let you see him without an escort."

They were talking in whispers now, though more for effect than practicality, as they were still loud enough for the corridor to hear.

"Right now he has no reason to suspect you... _But _if you refuse to see him, then he'll know there is something suspicious going on. It's chess we're playing, not checkers."

"If I see him with you then he'll know I betrayed my family!"

"Stop it!" he hushed. "Listen, we are here on the orders of Dumbledore and Minister Scrimgeour to protect the Hogwarts school _and _its students. That much is public knowledge. It's in the Profit, the ministry is on high alert, which means any visitors to the castle - family included - _have _to have Auror escort. He has no reason to link that to you, it's nowt to do with you for all he knows. He doesn't _know _you're receiving special attention, so he won't expect anything when we see him."

She was looking for holes to poke in his logic, but couldn't find anything. In theory what he was saying was true, but her anxiety was speaking far too loud for her to hear anyone's logic. When she was unable to retort his argument, with a wave of his hand they walked back to Tonks, who had been waiting idly against the corridor wall. As they approached, her eyes didn't leave Daphne.

"Alright, I'll see him. But I need to do it my way."

It was obvious his Sirius' talk was over now as he had gone back to his standard, slightly daft grin, the one that never ceased to remind her of Tracey. She thought, in hindsight, that was an image of him that she enjoyed. An older, more responsible and experienced version of her. Just as predictable and just as lovable.

"Thatta girl!"

He delivered a joyful slap onto her back, causing her to flinch in alarm. Tonks kept looking at her for a moment longer, neither saying anything or making gestures of any kind, before giving a reluctant nod.

They started down the corridor in silence. The halls were quiet and still - naturally, since everyone was in class. She didn't quite know where her father would be waiting for her, but imagined the increased security wouldn't allow him too far into the castle.

He would be coming to her on her home-turf. Which meant that even if things went completely south and by merely looking at her, he was able to somehow deduce all the activities she had been up to of late, she doubted there was anything immediate he could do about it. He wouldn't even be able to roll his sleeve up without being tackled to the ground - and she had been on the receiving end of Tonks' tackle before - he would be no match for her, Sirius and Daphne all at once. Never mind if Professor Dumbledore got wind of a rogue Death Eater loose in the castle. She was in no immediate danger, so while she didn't need to panic, the way in which the next events played out would be very important to the bigger picture.

She came to an abrupt halt, feeling an impact in her back as Tonks stumbled into her back.

"What?" Tonks said, irritably.

She turned around to face them quickly.

"We need Harry."

Sirius blinked at her.

"Pardon?"

"The mission. The Dark Lord told me to get close to Harry. Last father knew, we split up and You-Know-Who had it out for me. If he can see us together…"

Her sentence was cut off as he finished it loudly for her.

"Then it'll go a long way to restoring faith in you!"

He lifted his eyebrows and gave a kind of a determined look. They both stared at each other in positive, unanimous agreement. Even Tonks' mood looked to have turned.

"Which lesson is he in?"

She thought for a second. If she and Tracey were in Charm class, that meant Harry and Dominique were both on free periods.

"He'll either be in his common room... or the Quidditch Pitch."

"I'll find him," Sirius said, beginning to walk away from them. "No fighting, you two."

"Be quick!"

Sirius rushed off quickly down the hall, leaving the two alone for the longest five minutes of Daphne's life. Nothing was said between them. Tonks stood with her hip cocked and arms crossed. She could feel the older woman's eyes creeping up and down her figure, then when she decided to noticeably catch her eye, she didn't pull back or look away. Daphne cocked a hip of her own.

"I don't know why you don't trust me."

She stated it like it was a fact and the most simplest thing in the world. The grimace on Tonks' face worsened.

"Sirius says I had to. But I know your type, and I know you're only in it for you."

She wasn't necessarily wrong, but the tone of voice brought her to disagree.

"Isn't Bellatrix Lestrange your aunt?" she asked back. "It's in your blood as well, so what makes me any different to you?"

"_I_ don't have a Dark Mark on my arm," she shot back.

Daphne brought the arm in question out and offered it to her.

"_That's_ the only difference you can muster? Find a way to remove this and I will happily oblige. Then we'll be equal, right? Then we will be _friends_?"

Her words were a lot friendlier than the tone that accompanied them. Tonks shifted her weight around, keeping up her scowl.

"I bet lads fall all over you. You're used to getting what you want. That's why you're struggling, you're not used to _actually _putting in the effort to get people on your side. You expect people to like you just because you're pretty. You're exactly like Bellatrix."

The words rebounded off her like balloons blown by the wind. Daphne fixed her with the glare her namesake was known for.

"I suppose a world where appearance is everything _would _be very difficult for you, wouldn't it?"

The woman was by no means unattractive, which made that a low-blown on her part. She wasn't ugly as such, but cut short, she could understand why Tracey was interested. And considering Tracey's history, that was not a compliment.

Tonks face contorted and she straightened up, looked like she was about to say something, then went quiet again with the sound of approaching footsteps down the corridor.

Sirius was jogging back in their direction, accompanied by a very alarmed-looking Harry. His eyes rushed around the hallway before settling on her. He approached her quickly.

"What's going on? Sirius says your dad's here? Have you seen him? What does he want?"

Words were coming pouring out of his mouth like a torrent. He was agitated - she expected him to be concerned, but this was far more than she was expecting. It was… actually somewhat attractive, seeing him rattled up and protective of her.

Physically, she shook the impure thoughts from her brain.

"It's fine - I haven't seen him yet."

Then, much to her dismay, he did apparently the only thing he could think of. He brought his arms out and swept her up into a tight hug. She tensed up instantly, very much aware of the company beside them, but decided not to fight against him. Not fight him, that was until he started patting her head like a cat, then she aggressively brought herself out from under him.

"Stop it! We just need to be seen together! You don't need to acknowledge him or speak to him. I just need him to see me with you. See things are going well."

He appeared to lighten up a little, though she was sure that wasn't through reassurance, but laughing at her embarrassment. She could definitely hear Tonks' sniggering.

"Well, I have quite a few things I would like to say to him, actually."

She glared at him and he stopped laughing.

"Only joking… mostly."

Sirius clapped his hands together, making them all jump - he really had to stop doing that - and began to lead the rest of the way. They went down the stairs onto the ground floor, where she presumed he would be waiting for them in the entrance hall. Each step, Daphne could feel her heartbeat grow quicker and quicker. Down the rest of the stairs. Around the corner. Down the corridor. Around the last corner.

"Hold my hand!" she whispered to him, harshly.

When a cold hand met hers, it made her realise how sweaty her palms had become.

"Not like that. The man needs the dominant hand."

Harry looked up at her.

"What?"

"Put yours over mine, not under it!"

"Like this?"

Annoyed, she ended up snatching her hand from his and doing the correct placement herself. Harry's face was glowing. Sirius looked a mix between sympathetic for his godson and amused at his expense. Tonks was having a very cruel time of her life.

Together, the foursome rounded the last corner and into the sight of Benedict Greengrass. He stood with his arms on his sides, looking fatigued. His expression faltered as he noticed her company, his eyes moving over each of them quizzically, but he caught himself quickly after and forced a smile.

As their eyes met, her heart was beating so fast that it felt like pure poison was being pumped into her system. This felt similar to having Harry and his friends in her house last year, only infinitely more terrifying. Putting on a false smile, she stopped approximately halfway to her father, and turned appreciatively to Harry.

"Thank you for walking me down, Harry!"

She brought his hand up and gave it an extra squeeze, making sure it was well within the view of her father's eye-line. Harry, taking the hint, smiled with equal energy.

"No problem. Actually - Hello, Mister Greengrass!"

Her father let out a bellowed laughter - one she could tell was very fake.

"Harry Potter! A pleasure to meet you, at last! I've heard a lot about you from our dear Daphne! Do hope you're treating her appropriately!"

Their hands met in the middle. There was a very pregnant pause as for a tense moment she, Sirius and Tonks all expected something dramatic to happen, but nothing did. She looked down - both their hands were turning white. Harry laughed, but likewise, it was not his genuine one. She knew all too well what that sounded like, but now there was an edge to it that made it sound bittersweet.

This was not the first time that they had met, of course. The two briefly interacted during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries late last year, where they fought on opposite sides. And by the looks on each of their faces, it was an interaction still fresh in their memories. Harry approaching him was done as a game of nerve. Though she'd be scolding him for it later, in the meantime, she was also very much fawning over it. She would be downright proud of him, if he wasn't choosing the worst possible moment to prove his manhood to her.

Harry nodded courteously to her father.

"Nothing but the best for my Daffy, sir."

There was another stillness, this time where she was quite positive her father was about to attack him, be it magically or physically. But again, it never came. Sirius seemed much more ready to break them apart this time.

"Right! Off back to class, Harry! See you later! Bye, now!"

Harry was dragged - quite aggressively - away from her father by Sirius. As he moved away around the corner, she felt the mood sinking away with him. It was as though a dark rain cloud was approaching overhead. Her father's hand came down to her shoulder. She turned to face him, and saw a very stern look staring back at her.

"You haven't been keeping in contact. I was getting worried.."

"It wasn't my intention to worry you."

She could sense the conflict raging behind his eyes. It was apparent there was a lot he wanted to say, but wasn't sure how much he could get away with in their company.

"Mister Black," he said as Sirius returned to them, "I was wondering, perhaps you could provide somewhere private for me and my daughter to catch up?"

Sirius shrugged apologetically back.

"Only so much we can do for that, unfortunately. New rules and the like. Can find you an empty classroom, but we can't leave you unaccompanied I'm afraid."

If her father was unhappy about that, he didn't let it show. Instead he gave a nod and a bow, gesturing for him to lead the way. Sirius started down the corridor with him close behind, she followed behind them at a distance, and Tonks took up the flank. As they moved, Daphne couldn't help but have the imagery in her head of her, Draco, her father and the wolf-man taking up similar positions on their way to see The Dark Lord earlier this year. She was in much better company this time around, she decided.

They settled into an empty classroom on the ground floor. It was dark and empty, and fitted the mood rather appropriately. She and her father seated themselves at the teacher's desk, while Sirius and Tonks moved to linger just out of earshot. They wanted to at least appear not to be eavesdropping. She felt extremely appreciative of them right now, as she didn't fancy being left alone with him.

"I _did _need to talk to you about something important..." her father began in an unnecessarily low whisper. "Our mutual... _friend _still hasn't been found, which would spell a problem for you, but now… I can't imagine that much matters anymore."

She nodded curtly, following his words.

"Harry and I got back together over Christmas. We were able to work things out."

"Is it going well?"

"He does not suspect anything, if that is what you mean."

He gave her a nasty sort of look as she said that, like he was wanting her to take it back.

"You know, I always dreaded the day I'd meet your first boyfriend... It's something every father fears. I imagined it a million times, but somehow, it never was _quite _like that," he said, offering a quite out-of-place laugh.

She did not find it as funny as he did.

"I'm going to ask you something. I want you to answer me honestly, can you do that?"

"Of course."

"Does he make you happy?"

"I'm doing what The Dark Lord told me to do."

He heaved an exasperated sigh

"No… look, sweetpea… I know what it is like to have your heart and brain in two different places at the same time. It's a decision I had to make with your mother a long time ago. But... I _made _that decision and I became all the more powerful for it. Betraying the people you love is one of the most difficult-"

It was as though a glass wall behind her shattered quite suddenly. She stumbled with her words, struggling to keep a cold face. She was walking on emotional eggshells.

"I don't _love _him," she said quickly.

His eyes narrowed again at the words. She got the feeling that wasn't the answer he was expecting, he fixed her with an icy stare. If there was any doubt she was truly his daughter, it was now resolved.

"_Betraying_ those you love…" he continued. "... is one of the most difficult things a person can do. Only the strongest among us can do what is needed for the greater good. I want you to enjoy yourself while you can with this, it's alright. I encourage it! I'm not thrilled it's him, but it's obvious you do still care for the boy. You don't have to pretend with me. I have faith in you to still do what needs to be done when the time comes. You've always been good at getting what you wanted."

He shuffled around in his seat, his eyes leaking over to Tonks and Sirius' corner, who appeared to be talking between themselves.

"Because… because it'll hurt when it's over. It'll make you feel like your heart has been ripped straight from your chest, and I'll be there for you when it does. Choosing between your mother or getting vengeance for Jarvis and Estelle was one of the most difficult dilemmas I have ever faced. But it was black and white, and I had to choose. I chose right, and now we're in good favour with…" he lowered his voice even more,"... You-Know-Who. We're on the winning side of this war. After it is done, you'll realize how much better you have become because of it. Being able to put mind over matter is an ability very few among us has. And in a world full of locked doors, the person with the key is king."

Then, with another good natured laugh, he smiled.

"Or, should I say queen?"

She was silent.

The whole time she listened, she felt rather spellbound by him. He always knew exactly the right thing to say in exactly the right moment. Her thirst for power was one he knew about and was using directly against her. Her father's silver tongue was renowned for bringing people around to his way of thinking. He could make the most difficult thing sound simple. He was passionate about his stuff… It was what stopped her being able to entirely hate him. She could never bring herself to that point because, as much as she denied it, she respected him. Part of her wished she could have that effect on people.

But, her solidarity rang true. Unphased, she nodded in understanding.

"I will do what I must."

When it became apparent she wasn't willing to meet him on the same level of sincerity that he offered her, he looked annoyed for a minute, then continued in a more dishevelled manner.

"Well… anyway," he gave a distinct sigh of defeat. "We missed having you for Christmas, you should know. You have no idea how awkward it is Lizzy over, trying to keep the conversation going without you to mitigate it. I am sorry you couldn't join us, that whole awkward ordeal was for the best, I'm sure you understand. And it definitely shouldn't be a problem in the future, all things considering now."

That was his apology for abandoning her. Except, she didn't think she really needed it any more, at this point. She had lived through the worst night of her life a few months ago and his reward for her then had been throwing her under the bus. It wasn't great to be abandoned by her family, but now that she looked at it, it had been the final push she needed. Now it wasn't something she was worried about any more. In fact, she hadn't even taken the time to properly consider her father before the howler this morning. That all felt like a lifetime ago, and here, now, she had new things on her mind.

It annoyed her how he could say that so readily. Say something with such real affection in his voice that it makes her think he genuinely cared. He didn't mean it. He couldn't. How could he really care about her when _these _were the circumstances they were having to talk under? He was a master manipulator, and she was not going to allow herself to fall under his spell again.

His gaze turned thoughtful, then he grinned.

"Did you like your Christmas present?"

This time, it took her a second to respond. He was beginning to get under her skin.

"I have not opened it."

"Well, please do. I put a lot of money and effort into it. I was hoping you'd like it."

The venom that threatened to drip into her voice is controlled, but it was at this point she decided she had reached the end of her tether. It was time to go, before either she did anything she would regret, or he actually got through to her.

"Then I will be sure to. Now, if you don't mind, I have lessons to attend."

She stood up and brought her bookbag over her shoulder. She must have been doing a worse job than she thought, because he peered closely at her from his position at the desk.

"_Please_ try and work with me on this Daffy. Progress is being made and I'm happy, but we don't have to be at odds."

* * *

Somehow, she wandered back to her dormitory. Sirius said something to her as she left, but she didn't hear it. She had needed to go back to lesson, but that wasn't where her feet took her. She went down the stairs to the dungeons, into the dark. She threw herself on the bed. Looking at one roof of her four-poster bed, she wished blissfully she would magically find the answers she needed written up there.

Her mind was doing a mile a minute, going nowhere, but very fast. She can't figure out how to process all this. She thought moving forward was a good thing. Dwelling on a situation she couldn't change just meant she suffered twice. No more living in the past, only the future. Letting the past die - killing it, if she had to. But after this... thing with her father, she wasn't sure any more. Wasn't sure about anything. Why did it feel so wrong now? He was wrong, she knew that much. Him and all his intentions were wrong. But making the decision to work against him had proved a lot easier when there was half a country between them.

Nothing had changed. She was just being anxious. She was still strong against him, he just had a certain way of getting under her skin unlike anyone else. More, possibly, than even the Dark Lord.

After a few minutes of staring into the void, a thought popped into hear head about something he said. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, she moved and decided to pick up the box delivered to her for Christmas. It was now or never, she didn't think this kite of adrenaline was going to last much longer. Lifting the lid off, she sorted through assorted tissue paper of different colours, until her hand eventually came into contact with something cold and metal. She pulled the large metallic object free, and then froze.

Staring back at her were the cold, dark, hollow eyes of a Death Eater mask. This was not one she had seen before, and was most definitely not her fathers. It had indentations and markings around the rim. It was a very pale shade of blue, and that was what made the strange markings adorned around it suddenly clicked together in her mind. The mask was designed to look as though it was frozen. This was _her _Death Eater mask, and it was modelled after the Ice Queen.

Then without a second thought or a moment of hesitation, she brought herself off the bed, seized the mask and launched it across the room. It landed with a very heavy clang into the rubbish bin opposite her dresser, a bullseye. Exactly where it, and him, belonged.

With the hem of her sleeve, she wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. She wouldn't let herself cry over this. Not over him. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. She was beyond him, there was nothing he could do to her anymore.

* * *

_A/N Didn't expect to receive so many aggressive messages about that BLM comment. Mad people can have such different opinions on something like racism. _

_Sorry for the lack of upload last week, I've recently moved in with my partner and finding the balance between my two lives was a little tricky. That, and I've always been working hard on another Youtube video, though this one not Harry Potter-related (Godzilla, if anyones interested?). The Daphne Greengrass video is still by far the most popular on the channel, thank you all for that!_

_Next chapter is one I think we have all been looking forward to! Do chuck us a review letting me know what you thought of this one!_


	30. Ramiel Pure

"I hate this."

"You look fine. Too fine, actually."

A chuckle escaped his lips.

"Thank you."

A spluttering of noises met his ears.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

When Harry imagined finally getting to go on his first proper date with Daphne, this had been among one of the very last ways he'd imagined it. As much as they both wanted to do this properly, needs were a must, and digression was all too necessary. Keeping away from each other in public was easy, as was spending time together in the Room of Requirement. But sending time together _in _public, however, was nigh on impossible.

As night drew nearer, the best he was able to scrounge was an uncomfortable, oversized checker-pattern blazer and flat cap, ones he'd had to raid Seamus's wardrobe to find. It was the first time he'd seen Daphne in anything other than some variant of uniform robes, and it had made him pause when first spotting her. Apparently she had a similar idea to him and was wrapped up entirely in a Wigtown Wanderers hoodie that was so large it came down over her hands, and definitely didn't belong to hers. It was an unnatural sight, almost as though someone had pasted a picture of her face onto another person's body. Her hood was up, her hands in her pockets and she was wearing normal pants and not a skirt for the first time in what could probably have been her entire life. It was, admittedly, a cute look for her.

She grimaced awkwardly at him behind the hood.

"Well, no, you _are_, I just mean… shut up!" she blushed, flustered. "I _meant _you still look like Harry Potter."

She produced her wand from her sleeve and waved it in his direction, then spoke an enchantment he'd briefly heard in Professor McGonagall's transfiguration lessons.

"_Cisuo Muto_."

A tingling feeling spread across his face. It was similar to the effect of Polyjuice Potion, but not nearly as unpleasant. He could see his nose a lot more clearly now and what of his fringe he could see, appeared much browner than it was used to.

"Can you pull your hair over your scar?"

He was surprised when he felt his scar still on his forehead, but quickly deduced that just like the transformation, the effects of the spell mustn't be as powerful as polyjuice was. He brushed his hair into an unpleasant fringe and looked back at Daphne for approval.

Her eyes narrowed and she moved her hand to brush softly against his cheeky.

"What happened to your face?"

"Cut myself shaving."

She frowned.

"How do you _cut yourself_ while shaving?"

He peaked a curious brow at her, not seeing the joke.

"... with a razor?"

She gave a very demeaning scoff - an action which made her resemble someone Harry couldn't remember.

"Is that how muggles do it? How barbaric, we have potions for that sort of thing..." she said, as her eyes then narrowed. "What about women? How do they… ?"

He leaned in and whispered something he rather wished he hadn't had to, to her.

"All over?" she squeaked, suddenly looking somewhere between embarrassed and petrified.

"Usually."

Very quick, Daphne did not look like she wanted to know any more. Harry smiled. As much as her hoity-toity-ness caused problems for them, he secretly loved it.

It was then that a rather uncomfortable thought occurred to him. That scoff she had done was very near identical to the ones Aunt Petunia would come out with. Which was then his cue to realise what a fool he was not recognising the similarities between Daphne and his aunt sooner. They held similar stances, the exact same down-the-nose sneer and just everything right down to the same up-tight energy about them was too close for comfort.

The main - and most important difference being - Daphne actually had a heart beneath it all and, for the most part, her cold exterior was an act. He could play around with her, make her flustered and frustrated, without having worry about being starved over the next few days. It almost felt like getting approval from Daphne now, here in Hogwarts, was making up for years worth of the affection-starving he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. In a rather sad twist of dramatic irony, if the situation ever arose where he introduced her to his family at Private Drive, he imagined they would be rather fond of her. If she wasn't a witch. And they weren't magic-hating muggles.

Don't get him wrong, Daphne was still better than Petunia in every way, shape and form, but nonetheless, as soon as the two images blurred together he very much struggled to separate them again. He didn't know why in some messed-up, Freudian kind of way, he enjoyed it, but probably imagined there was a therapist out there who would have a field day with him.

He straightened himself up, trying to brush the mental image out of his mind. Daphne gave another glance around the abandoned entrance hall, then nodded affirmatively.

"Right. Cast it for me, now."

But his mind drew a blank.

"What?"

"Cisuo Muto, human transfiguration?"

His next pause was apparently too long.

"I'll do it myself," she sighed.

It was that exact _"Right, I'll do it myself"_ look on her face that he had grown to love about her.

She cast the disillusion charm over herself and a moment later, he saw a similar transfiguration happen occur over her. Her nose shrank a little, her eyebrows became less pronounced and then, spreading like spilled ink over a sheet of parchment, her blonde hair turned black.

"Well?"

He looked the girl before him up and down. If he hadn't seen the change himself, he would have never guessed it was his girlfriend standing in front of him.

"You look like your sister."

"Which one?"

"Astoria."

"Then I'll take that as a compliment. Shall we get the carriage?"

Though Hogsmeade trips were usually held annually, the village wasn't off-bounds to students during other hours. Friday night had arrived and with it, Harry and Daphne took a thestral-drawn carriage down to the wizarding village, which was light by lamp-light.

Compared to travelling with Ron and Lavender or a lonely, scornful Hermione, it being just he and Daphne was a much more enjoyable experience. Though the journey down was mostly silent, it wasn't the usual, uncomfortable kind he had with other people. He had grown used to long-drawn out silences around her during their revision sessions last year, and felt no more awkward about them now than he did then. The scenery was pleasant and the gentle taps of rain against the window was calming. It made the ride pass in no time, and they had quickly arrived at the Hogsmeade train station.

The same one that, not a few months ago, she had tried breaking up with him in. Thinking about how far they had come from that point did bring a smile to his face, but he was the only one being optimistic. The short walk between the station and the rest of the village, he also couldn't ignore the frequent glances Daphne gave to the patches of dark, or the tight grip she kept on his hand as they moved.

Before long they emerged into the warm, fire-light streets of Hogsmeade. He had only been here at night during the winter, and seeing it now starved of it's usual snow made the place near-unrecognisable. Daphne's shoulders seemed to relax at the familiar sight, but he still thought it best they got inside as quick as they could.

"Let's get inside."

As they walked, he noticed there were no sideways glances directed their way. That would have been an odd thing to pick up on if he were a normal person, but he had become far too accustomed to catching people staring at his scar, both here and in Diagon Alley. He'd usually make eye contact back and after a long, awkward second, they would realise they were staring and look away, which just made it more obvious. But it was non existent now. It was like being back in the muggle world - or, under the invisibility cloak, anyway. Daphne had a similar way of attracting people's gazes, but for much the same reason, was now being ignored. The deeper they got, the more confident she seemed, also realising their lack of attention. Suppose there was only so much reassurance he could give her, but seeing it in person had restored her usual strength. Holding her head high, he was now having to compete with her strides to keep up.

They kept walking and he noticed for the first time quite how much nightlife Hogsmeade seemed to have. Suppose it made sense, being the only all-magic village in the country. Every once in a while a drunken wizard in a suit came out of a bar, usually being supported by another, but for the most part the street was just as crowded as it was the day time. Different kinds of music came and went as they passed each bar, and Harry was sure he even heard the distinct bellow of Hagrid come from inside one of them.

The Hogs Head Inn was by no means the usual kind of place either of them would find themselves, but both agreed they were going all out on the precautions tonight, which meant it would be best to avoid The Three Broomsticks, which was their school's usual drinking spot.

He expected his eyes to need readjusting once in, but found the inside not much brighter than the out, being light by torch light. The sound of classical music was present, but drowned out by the sound of glasses moving on the tables and the husky chatter of other patrons. It was mostly men, and though there were indeed a handful of women, none of them looked under forty. The smell of cigarette smoke was thick in the air, but the area was far from seedy, and it was little amusing seeing Daphne's reaction to the smell. Harry imagined if he was about fifty years older, he would probably feel quite at home here.

Everyone was talking between themselves and drinking, meaning no faces were dragged their way as they went between the tables. Daphne took a place at the counter without glancing around. He doubted she had been here before and imagined this was just what she behaved like in public. Even under such heavy disguise, she didn't look like someone he wanted to mess with. It made him all gooey on the inside. An elderly man with a beard - one Harry had to do a second glance at, after mistaking him for Dumbledore - came over to her.

"What'll it be?"

"What red wines do you have?"

The bar-keep took a momentary glance down below him.

"Celery and Beetroot, Elf-Made, Superior and Ramiel."

"Two glasses of Ramiel, please."

He nodded and began to assemble their order. A couple of seconds passed before she suddenly remembered that Harry was indeed here she turned to him, apologetically.

"Ramiel Pure is fine with you, isn't it?"

Harry, who the most alcohol he ever had was whatever was the cheapest or what was bought for him, nodded. A bottle of dark red liquid was poured into two glasses, which came their way. He snatched them up, determined to be useful.

"That'll be three galleons, please."

He did a double take to make sure he had heard correctly. Three galleons for two glasses of wine? He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as Daphne handed over three golden coins and what was presumably a generous tip without problem. She _was _the heir to the Greengrass estate. That shouldn't surprise him. He was by no means poor, in the wizarding world at least, but it boggled his mind how readily she could depart with large amounts of money without flinching.

"Ah, thank you very much! 'Ave a nice night, you two."

They turned and set off for an abandoned corner of the pub, again with her taking the lead. The prospect of a nice, quiet night away from everyone was now on the horizon. They found a table that was empty, clean and well-lit, despite the surrounding darkness. There weren't many people milling about this corner of the club, and Daphne let her hood down finally as a result.

"This place is disgusting," she said finally, as though she had been itching to voice it since the second they entered.

Harry looked at their glasses.

"We don't have to come here? Just thought it was a better place than…"

"It will do, don't worry," she readjusted her attitude quickly.

She picked up her glass and moved it side to side, examining the liquid. Quickly, he did the same. The dark liquid glistened in the candle light as it moved around in the glass, but other than that, it just looked like wine. He guessed it took a lot of education to judge how the liquid inside tasted based only on how it responded to gravity.

"Surprised they didn't ask for ID."

She nodded quietly, still concentrating on the liquid in her glass.

"They rarely do, in here."

He rose a curious brow at her.

"You come here?"

"Tracey does."

"Of course," he sighed.

Oblivious to his raised eyebrow, she took a sip from her glass. The wine slipped down effortlessly, her fondness for alcohol evidently helping her deal with the flavor. Harry had been trying to put it off, but eventually did the same. And he failed spectacularly. What could only be described as lava slipped down his throat and he coughed roughly back into the glass. Daphne recoiled, watching him aggressively pat his chest with an amused look.

"Not a wine drinker?"

"Sometimes," he wheezed. "Rarely. Once or twice. Not really. No. Not at all, actually."

"I should have asked what you wanted before ordering, it's my mistake."

"No, no, don't worry about it," he fought to regain his normal voice. "I just haven't tried before is all… It's okay, in its own way. Not for everyone's taste. Like you, I suppose."

Daphne paused for a moment, a wistful look on her face, before she smiled softly. The bizarre compliment seemed to go a while in brightening her mood. A small giggle escaped her mouth, which she disguised as a cough. It was at that cue, they both relaxed a little into their seats. Even now, their nervousness was still present, but seemed to finally be dissipating. It had been built up in their heads that this was their first proper date, and now they were unnecessarily worked up over nothing. It was nice how alcohol seemed to loosen her up a little.

"So, how has Hogwarts been treating you?" she asked after a long pause.

"Better, lately. Definitely. Well... Ron and Hermione are still being iffy around each other, but they both seemed to like you well enough."

"That was Hermione's way of _liking _someone?"

There was resentment in her words, but that was also the first time he could recall her using Hermione's first name.

"You _did_ call her a mudblood, to be fair."

She looked as though he had quite suddenly trodden on her toe under the table.

"I am sorry about that... It's not intentional it's just-"

"I know, I know. Force of habit. It's fine."

"It's not treated as a bad word where I come from…" she emphasised. "Of course we all _know _it's derogatory origin, but it's much more just become a word descriptive of people with that blood status these days."

"It might be like that for you, but not so much for other people."

There was probably a lot more he could say on the matter, but at risk of souring the evening, decided to save it for another time.

"But, hey, Sirius likes you."

She seemed appreciative of the change of subject.

"I quite like him myself," she said in a sing-song voice that was quite unlike her, "He has Tracey's attitude but your charisma. A rather lovable combination, I must confess. And I see a certain new Potions Professor has taken a liking to you also. Horace is a good person for you to ally yourself with, I'm impressed."

"He seems alright. As far as people who only like me because I'm famous go, he's one of the nicer ones."

She tutted loudly back at him.

"He has an eye for people with potential. You should be quite flattered - being invited to join the Slug Club is an honour! Nearly everyone who's a member goes on to do great things. He is definitely the kind of person you should be surrounding yourself with. Connections, and all that."

He took a brief glance around their settings and deduced they had enough privacy for what he had to say next.

"Actually, it was Dumbledore who asked me to get close to him. He wants me to spy on him."

She gave an amused snort and a mocking smile.

"Why ever would Professor Dumbledore ask you to do that?"

He cleared his throat subtly.

"It's complicated… Slughorn used to teach Voldemort when he was at Hogwarts, see. Dumbledore reckons there was something important that taught him, something that let him get so powerful. Slughorn won't tell anyone what it was, though. Just pretends he has no idea what we're talking about. Dumbledore reckons I have a good chance of getting him to tell the truth, and once we find out what it is, it might be the key to defeating him."

Daphne's face, even under her disguise, responded appropriately to that bombshell of information he had just dropped on her. There was a long stillness before she formulated a spluttered response.

"I cannot imagine Horace having anything to do with the Dark Lord!" she said defensively.

He shook his head quickly.

"He doesn't think he told him _deliberately_. They were friends, he probably saw no harm in it. Thought it was all hypothetical."

"And - so you're trying to get into his good books, to try and make him tell you what he told him?"

He'd been watching her reaction closely the last time he'd said Voldemorts name, and while she hadn't scolded him or reacted massively, there had definitely been a look on her face that said she wished he hadn't.

"Pretty much. Me and Dumbledore have been working more closely on _You-Know-Who_ this year."

She frowned and moved ever closer.

"How so?"

His mouth opened but shut again.

It was stupid of him to be feeling anxious now, really. After all he and her had been through the past few months, he should be past this. But try as he might, there was a loud part inside of him, speaking with Tonks and Ron's voice, reminding him it was technically a Death Eater sitting opposite him. He was here, revealing secret, vital information to an undercover Death Eater. Secret, vital information that Dumbledore himself had _deliberately_ asked him not to share with her. But the path went both ways. If he wanted her to trust him with every fibre of her being and not hold anything back, he would have to do the same.

And so he told her. He told her all about the late-night meetings he had been having with Dumbledore. How they had discussed Tom Riddle's rise to power, how Harry himself had seen Dumbledore first meeting with the boy who would go on to become the greatest dark wizard of all time. And about how Slughorn manipulated his memory to protect himself, thereby putting them all at a disadvantage, and how he had specifically been brought out of retirement for a chance to rectify that mistake. A good ten minutes passed while he talked and Daphne listened, a look of shell-shock plastered on her face, only interrupted by swigs from her glass.

"The Dark Lord is _half _blood?" she asked for a second time.

He took another drink from his glass - a bigger one this time, after he bracing himself for it. The wine slid down his throat without issue, but it was a good few seconds before he was breathing out of both nostrils again.

Daphne looked very distant from their table now and when she spoke again, it seemed not directed at anyone in their room.

"If people knew… if the _Death Eaters_ knew…"

"We could get them to turn against him!"

She returned to the conversation and offered a cold, icy laugh.

"That? No, I doubt that. For many, following the Dark Lord isn't done because you agree with him - a lot do it because they're afraid. But if Professor Dumbledore can get out the knowledge that he is only half-blood, however… may very well begin to spread the seeds of doubt just enough..." she said thoughtfully. "You should definitely try to find out what it is Horace knows. I will help you with it, if you like? I'm often good at getting what I want."

He smiled, knowing all too well how true that was.

"More tutoring sessions?"

She maintained a smile, but with a distinct lack of laughter. Black humour wasn't her cup of tea, then.

As he opened his mouth to speak, he could feel his face turn slightly dour. Right now, he was quite appreciative of the fact his expressions were being filtered through someone else face. Daphne too, found herself suddenly quiet. Apparently neither of them were expecting the topic to move into such a sensitive area for them both, and now they were embarrassed.

"On that, I should have asked earlier. How did it go with your dad?"

She gave a glance around their establishment, similar to how he had done, and her voice drew ever more quiet before answering.

"As well as it could have. He has no idea where my allegiances lay," then with a sad but bemused grin, she said, "He's rather thrilled about us getting together, in fact."

She looked like there was more after that she wanted to say, but stayed quiet. Or rather, while keeping contact with him, she let out a slow and dishevelled sigh. By now he was able to recognise that meant there was something she wanted to say, but was stopping herself saying it. He decided it was worth following up.

"That's good though, right? If he had no idea? That means they won't be suspecting you anymore, doesn't it?"

"It is good, but... Well, in that respect, yes. But... it's not exactly how I pictured introducing my first boyfriend to my father."

Then, he went quiet. He understood the turn her mood had taken. He definitely agreed with that, he knew all too well the struggle of balancing a normal teenage life with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He wanted to communicate this to her, let her know he knew exactly how she felt, but she spoke again quite suddenly.

"That's the trouble with all this _stuff_... It seeps into everything. Nothing's innocent any more. It pollutes everything, nothing gets away clean."

She took another big sip of the wine, but wasn't done talking yet.

"My father wasn't a Death Eater for the first war, you know? That was my aunt and uncle, Jarvis and Estelle Greengrass. Of my grandfather's three children, father was the youngest. Though he was never neutral, he did not drop quite as far as taking the mark the first time around. After his brother and sister received the dementors kiss, though… it send him down the warpath. A downwards spiral that turned my mother against him. She was the black sheep of their friendship group in school, being the only not to pursue a dark path. He claims he regrets it but I don't believe he does."

It felt strange hearing her speak so candidly about her past. She was very noticeably forcing the words out, but was holding herself miles better than the way she was at Slughorn's party, the first time she'd properly confessed to him. Her words lingered in the air for a long moment, during which the sound of the other patrons laughing among themselves filled his ears. Even out here, in a world where nobody knew either he or Daphne, the war had still found its way to them.

"Have you had a chance to speak to her yet?" he offered.

She looked mildly surprised for a moment, then nodded and took another drink from her glass. Her expression became the same as when they revised together; stern and focused concentration. It reminded him of how he felt getting into the zone before a Qudditch match, and wondered if it was a similar feeling for her. She hesitated for a moment, then began to address him while watching her wine.

"No, it is… something I am building to. I need to choose my words carefully."

"You know, if she and my dad were on the Quidditch team together, she probably knew Sirius too. Might have even been friends. Maybe we could invite her to Grimmauld Place next time you're there?"

Then she looked at him for a long time, which took him a bit off guard. Expressions were still recognisable under her disguise, and the fact she was holding such prolonged eye contact made that stare all too recognisable. She was judging him. It was a very strange and vaguely uncomfortable feeling, one that he previously thought he had gotten used to.

"What's up?" he asked.

It was a rare sight to see her lost for words. She never had any problems with awkward silences before. Her entire persona seemed above the concept of it.

"Could we avoid talking about my parents tonight, please?"

"Oh, yeah, of course!"

"It's just everything I do seems to get infected by my father's poisonous touch and…" she said very quickly, "I would like to have one evening where that isn't the case."

He could sense the discomfort in her voice and quickly readjusted himself in his seat, hoping to physically move the conversation on. Daphne lowered her face slightly, her expression pensive. She was embarrassed, and it was his fault.

He took another gulp from his glass. Again, it was easier this time. Or maybe the alcohol was helping with the taste. He only had a little in his glass left. She finished her glass in little time, then sat and watched him as he downed what remained in his.

"Done?"

"Yeah. Was alright, actually."

Content with his appraisal and evidently agreeing, she gave a small nod.

"An acquired taste, as you say. Red isn't for everyone. Tracey says it tastes like vinegar… I don't entirely disagree, either. But you get used to that. Same again?"

It was then he noticed she was making towards for her purse, which made him leap to his feet.

"I'll get this one!"

But he kept moving. He had stood up, and then kept standing up, and up, going further and further away from the table. The room was moving around him, and it took him a moment to realise he was already on his feet, and his head was spinning. The alcohol's effects on him had been minimal up until this point, but quickly came crashing in at once - He only had one glass, how had it gotten to him this much?

"Everything okay?" Daphne's voice came to him, with the relieving sound of smugness attached to it.

He looked back around the room with its continuing quiet hum of patrons. He felt like he'd been hit in the head by a powerful confundus charm. He flashed a thumbs up to her.

"Absolutely splendid. I'm getting this one."

She made some noise of disagreement to that, but he didn't stick around to hear it. He was able to find his footing fairly quickly as he manoeuvred his way through the other tables and chairs. He was able to do this by picturing the environment around him as a Quidditch game, with the other patrons being rival players he had to avoid. That made things easier, though it was probably not the most sober way to get across the room.

He found his way back to the bar and gestured over the same bearded barman that had served him earlier.

"Same again please, mate."

The gruff man nodded.

"You from Hogwarts?"

"Y-yeah. Seventh years."

"Mmhmm. That'll be three galleons, please."

He thought for a moment. The effect alcohol had over Daphne and the fondness she had for it was still fresh in his mind.

"Actually, make it the whole bottle."

He reached out his wallet and began drawing out coins, but then remembered the size of the tip Daphne had given earlier. So instead he decided to empty the entire dragon-skin wallet onto the bar. A little less than he would have liked came out, but the barman scooped it u[ and handed over two glasses and a bottle. It had cost him all the wizarding money he had on him and unless they were planning a drunken escapade to Gringotts, he was now spent for the night. He had been determined to impress her, to spoil her, but now he risked coming across as cheap if they decided to stay after this bottle was done.

"Cheers."

He gathered his bottle and turned, only to find with quite horrid shock that he couldn't remember which table he had come from, nor what Daphne's disguise looked like. Far longer than it should have taken him, and after very nearly sitting at a table with completely the wrong woman, he eventually found his way back to her.

But it was immediately apparent she was not in the same good spirits he had left her. Her smile had dropped and her mood seemed inexplicably dark. Even her hands retreated to her lap, where they sat fiddling with a beer mat.

"You okay?"

After a long while in which she avoided his eye, she replied.

"I'm sorry, Harry..." her voice was dark. "Trust me, it's equally annoying always hearing about him for me as it is you. My first bloody date, and we're talking about my father…"

He quickly shook his head from side to side.

"It's not annoying! It's important, and something we need to discuss…"

"But I wanted at least tonight for ourselves! Just _one _night without him leaking into it," she sighed.

He put the bottle between them and settled into his seat, then leaned importantly across the table.

"_I'm_ having a good time," he said in a meaningful whisper. "Are you having a good time?"

"Mostly…" she said with unease, staring off into the crowd of patrons.

"Mostly?"

She contemplated for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm just getting anxious. Dates are just a social construct, there is nothing we are doing here that we couldn't be doing in the Room of Requirement! We shouldn't be out here risking all of this..."

She smiled and looked away, but it felt stilted. Daphne wasn't very good at faking emotions, and this was no exception. He leaned across the table and took her hand in his own, but that didn't seem to work. Was she being truthful or was this just her anxieties speaking? No, he was overthinking it. And they didn't need two of them doing that. While her long silences were just an accepted fact of life by now, sometimes he did wish she'd speak more.

"Well... this is my first date too and _I'm_ having a great time."

That seemed to have finally gotten through to her. Her mood seemed to turn in its tracks. She took a deep breath, and then, after a long moment, let it out. Finally, she caught on to the bottle of wine he had bought and with an approving look, she moved to unscrew the top and began to pour for them both.

"Oh, let me do that!" he said quickly.

But she pulled the bottle out of his grasp with a frown.

"You don't know how to pour wine."

She probably didn't mean for that to come out as damning as it did, but it made him sink back into his seat. The contents of the bottle were quickly and professionally poured into their glasses, then she placed the cork back into the half-full bottle.

"But, Chang?"

It took him a second to figure out where that had come from. Then, the last thing he said before she noticed the wine came back to him. She was asking him if this was really his first date. And was that a hint of jealousy in her tone? It wasn't the first time he'd heard that from her, and the last time, alcohol had also been involved.

"We never went on a proper one, no. We were both busy," he thought briefly back to the state the world was little over a year ago, shuddering. "No time for romantic stuff. Actually was part of the reason we ended up splitting. That and I was cheating on her."

Daphne had been in the middle of taking a fresh sip when he'd said that and as a result, spat loudly into the back of her glass. She brought her sleeve quickly to wipe her dripping chin, her face flushing as red as the liquid that was splashed across it.

"Something funny?" he perked an amused brow.

She shook her head aggressively.

"No! No! It's not funny! I'm sorry!" she coughed.

So dark humour _did _appeal to her, if done correctly. He would remember that.

"I'm surprised it's _your_ first date!" he shot back. "Considering what some of the other girls in your house are like, I'd have thought you were highly sought after."

Daphne offered him back a snarky laughter.

"You're presuming no one has asked me out before?"

The simple statement managed to take him off guard. He shouldn't be surprised, given he was complimenting her just moments before.

"Really?"

Her response was a nod, followed by a surprisingly playful grin.

"I _have_ fancied people before, you should know. You were just the only one I thought it worth acting on."

The words hung in the air. He resisted smiling very hard.

"_You've_ fancied people?" he said, struggling to keep his face straight.

"Is that shock or jealousy?"

He ignored the teasing and pushed for her to continue.

"Back then…" she cleared her throat, "I was more concerned with getting good marks than I was pursuing anything. I either thought it too distracting or too taboo to pursue."

"Taboo?"

Her face dropped, but it felt different from earlier.

"Promise me you won't laugh."

He held his hand up.

"I solemnly swear."

She glared at him.

"Harry, I _mean _it."

He nodded again, more vigorously, and she eventually conceded.

"Well… I've always been attracted to people who know how to handle themselves. I like seeing people with ambition and self-discipline; who have goals and put the work and effort into achieving them, not caring what other people think of them in the process. Those are the people that go onto doing great things, and it's gone a long way in defining myself as a person today."

Nobody he could think of was coming to mind. Then again, he didn't exactly know a lot of Slytherins, and didn't exactly associate Malfoy with the phrase "hard-work" often.

"Alright?"

"Plus, people in my class were too immature for me. Always messing and causing trouble, never caring about the important things… Every time I improved my grade, his praise was my reward. It's rather ridiculous now, looking back on it. And _especially _considering how our relationship with him has soured since. It's downright disgusting now, but… I trust you enough to tell you… that an eleven year old Daphne Greengrass used to have a crush on her Head of House."

Whatever was coming up his throat, be it a laugh or a vomit, was only stopped by shoving his fist into his mouth.

"You _fancied _Snape?!"

With a glare to made that made her resemble a dark creature, she glowered at him seriously.

"Be quiet. Shut up! I was young and I liked the fear and respect he demanded."

"He looks like a frog person!"

This earned him a swat on the arm.

"It was a schoolgirl crush and nothing more!" she said defensively. "What, should I expect you haven't gotten any embarrassing stories yourself?"

At this point Harry was reminded of a thought that had been chasing him a while, the observation he had made earlier. About the similarities between Daphne and Aunt Petunia. He suddenly decided to be quiet.

Most unexpectedly though, was that a second later she started to laugh. It wasn't a giggle, or her usual hoity-toity snigger, but an honest and genuine laughter. He joined in, not just at the display of relief and happiness, but for getting the rare glimpse of Daphne he rarely got to see. Although, that was probably the alcohol having it's effect.

"Well, considering Snape was my competition then, I consider myself lucky you chose me!"

She shook her head, the brilliant teeth of her smile catching his attention.

"You're... _different_."

Again, he perked a curious brow.

"Oh yeah?"

She watched him carefully, though something was giving him the feeling it was now more the alcohol talking than it was Daphne.

"You're wrong for me, for starters," she held a finger up. "All your ingredients are wrong. You have no sense of discipline, no interest in the arts and you draw far too much attention to yourself. But yet, people still like you. That is weird, for me. Contradictory. You get places by keeping your head down and working hard. And then there's me ... Who, all the ingredients are right with. I'm disciplined. I'm organised, I'm dedicated to my career, I always get top marks. The result? Total bitch who is despised by everyone except the squid in the Black Lake."

He was sure there was an insult somewhere in what she had just said, but the loving gaze she was giving him brought him past it.

"Well, you made a decision, didn't you?" he asked. "You chose your career over your personal life. Nothing wrong with that."

"I suppose I did…" she said, before her face came over a lot more serious. "But, I'll tell you something, Harry. I'd trade it all in. My marks, my awards, my certificates, everything. I'd trade everything in... to love and to have been loved."

He felt something, and looked down to see her fingers touching his hand. Her touch is gentle as ever, with her thumb slowly stroking his cheek.

"And I…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I… really, _really _like you."

He smiled and hung his head. That wasn't what she had been trying to say, but he got her meaning all the same.

This woman could easily run rings around him, of that he was quite sure. Around her he was strapped down and along for the ride, and she would never leave him astray.

"I really, really like you too, Daphne."

Soon they would have to go back to the castle. Soon they would have to return to the lives where they pretended not know each other for the majority of it. Soon the secrecy would be back. But for now, they had each other. They were theirs and theirs alone. Just them, and the rest of the bottle of Ramiel Pure.

* * *

By the time they returned to the castle, reversed their disillusion charms, said goodbye and snuck back to their separate dorms, most of the Gryffindor boys were already asleep. As Harry returned to the comforting, orange glow of the dormitory, he found but one other person awake. Ron was leaning on his bedpost, looking out of his rain-washed window with a strange look on his face.

"Date go alright, then?"

It took him a second to answer His mind was racing a million miles a minute. The entire journey up the stairs, his mind was non stop replaying the events that had just transpired in his head. He felt very strongly and had a lot to say about it, but words failed him.

"Yeah," then he pushed out a bit more, and said, "Brilliant, actually."

"I bet it would be nice to go on a date…"

He brought himself to his neat bed and began dismantling the covers.

"Well, I'm not taking you on one," he said with a laugh.

Ron gave a desperate gesture.

"She probably doesn't even know I exist."

Harry looked up at him.

"She definitely knows you exist, considering she keeps snogging you."

What ever confused look he was giving off, Ron repeated it tenfold.

"Who are you talking about?"

A spluttering of sounds left his mouth as he tried to answer.

"Lavender…? Who are _you _talking about!?" he repeated.

His face suddenly glowed, as though someone had cast a particularly strong confundus charm over him.

"Romilda Vane," he said softly, as though the name was the most whimsical thing to ever leave his mouth.

They stared at each other for a long minute as Harry waited for the joke to hit him. When nothing did, a sudden truth occurred to him with the force of a stampeding troll. His eyes sunk slowly over a box of open chocolates on Ron's bed, as the words Hermione had said to him before Christmas rang in his ears.

"... Can't have _one _bloody night, can I?"


	31. A Very Potter Evening

She listened hard to the sound of her heartbeat. In the mirror, she could see her hair had now returned to normal. Her gaze lingered as the scar splitting her eyebrow in half caught her eye - maybe she was still drunk, or just was high on emotion, but for the first time since receiving it, she didn't mind seeing it stare back at her.

Tonight had been perfect. Tonight had been the night she had been striving to have all her life. A small taste of the future that she deserved. What brought them to it may have been awful, and there may still be well worse to come, but tonight and tonight alone, had been nothing less than an isolated slice of perfection.

A loud knock at her door dragged her from her mind. She was annoyed, because reminiscing tonight's events had felt like a wonderful dream.

Now, rudely awakened from it, she turned to acknowledge the door, but a millisecond later it was flung open anyway. She moved quickly - abruptly realising she still had more alcohol in her system than she thought - and pushed her back against it. She wasn't in the mood for seeing anyone, and didn't much fancy anyone seeing her in this emotional state either.

"Who is it!?" she asked quickly, though already standing a good chance at knowing the answer.

"Who do you think, dingbat?"

A second passed before reluctantly, she stepped aside and allowed the door to swing open. Tracey entered, the infamous, all-knowing grin on her face once again.

Daphne had been expecting that she would want all the details of her first official-date, but was hoping her prying could have at least waited until breakfast. She was ready to make her way to the bed, to sit down and begin a long recount of her night, when the girl crossed her arms and made a loud announcement.

"Visitoooor!" she sang.

It was then made apparent why she opened the door as wide as she had. There was a distoritian in the air behind her, which moved into the room. The invisibility cloak pulled to the side revealing Harry, who was still in his outfit from their date, but with his face returned to normal.

Blushing, her mind instantly leapt to the extreme. She never had a boy in her private dormitory before. And why else would he be here? Had he decided he didn't want to leave the night with just a goodnight kiss and was here to finish the job? Her cheeks grew red. She stared daggers at Tracey to make herself scarce.

"Harry... This is… unexpected…" she said innocently, swaying her hip to the side, "How can I help you?"

But then, all feelings of lewd excitement vanished as he reached into the air and pulled the rest of the cloak off, revealing his friend Ron stood with him.

Her face dropped in disappointment. A loud second passed. Confused, she fought for her words.

"What? Why? What's happening?" she tried. "What are you planning?"

Tracey moved in, excited.

"Are we goin' on a chosen one adventure?!" she asked with a squeal.

"Where is she, Harry? Is she hiding?" Ron asked as though he was drunk.

To say Harry looked uncomfortable with the way events had turned out would have been an understatement. He gestured vaguely to Ron, who was gazing around her dormitory in vague wonder.

"He's had a love potion.."

Daphne continued to stare at them, expecting a follow up to that proclamation.

"Okay?"

Still uncomfortable, he gave a shrug.

"I was... hoping you could fix him."

Finally, her mind kicked into gear. Now she felt as awkward in her own skin as he did, and even more so as they stared expectantly at her.

"I would have thought you would be capable of that?" she raised an eyebrow. "Considering your newfound expertise in the subject?"

She had been needlessly condescending when she had said that. He shrank back a bit, but she felt no remorse. He was looking like the entire concept of potion-making was alien to him.

"I don't have the right ingredients..."

She gave him a long and hard stare. Ignoring the disappointment spreading around her system, she straightened up and gave a cough into her wrist.

"Right. I'll have a look, then."

She rolled the sleeves up on her dressing down and moved to her dresser.

"Make yourself useful - hand me the ingredients?"

He joined and they reached her makeup mirror, where she pulled a wooden box of ingredients out the cupboard door and slid it over the woodwork to him. Waving her wand, she cast a spell which caused a floating flame to appear, then set up her class cauldron above it.

"You know how to prepare this brew?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I would have done it myself, if I had everything. Should have seen me trying to get him down here."

True to his word, Harry was able to shuffle through the ingredients she had stored and hand her the right ones at the correct time intervals. Barely a few minutes passed before they had a fully functioning brew before them and had slipped back into their oh-so refined system. As he handed the ingredients her way, she got a very warm nostalgia blast sweeping her system, taking her back to the brewing sessions that first brought them close together in the first place.

The nostalgia hit so hard in fact, that for a brief second she forgot the purpose behind their brew, and jumped quite abruptly as she noticed Tracey and Ron still in their proximity.

"H-How did you find out the password to get inside?" she asked, forcing herself back into the conversation.

"Didn't. I brought him down in the cloak, then knocked on the wall. Was hoping when someone came to answer we could slip by them. But nobody came, then ten minutes later, Tracey turned up anyway."

Suddenly remembering how many school rules they were breaking by them being here - and that being a Prefect was responsible for enforcing those rules - she sent a venomous-filled glare across the dorm.

"You are _not _allowed to let members of other houses into our common room! And _what_ were you doing out at this time?"

Tracey, who was leaning against the frame of her four poster bed, laughed with snark.

"Pfftt, yeah. As if I'd confess that to a Prefect!"

She glared at her.

Opposite, Harry offered a vial of castor oil, as though it were a peace offering. Reluctantly, still watching Tracey from the corner of her eye, she returned attention to the brew.

Harry gestured to his side.

"What's with all the letters?"

Her stomach churned at the words. She had planned to dispose of those earlier today and hadn't managed to get around to it. Suddenly feeling as though the ground beneath her was sinking, she struggled to keep her face straight. She felt silly so continuously pretending not to be fazed by her father anymore, when it was obvious even to others that she was.

"From my father."

Harry peaked his brow in curiosity. Tracey moved and scooped a letter from the top of the pile. With her hands in the potion, Daphne was powerless to stop her.

"Do not read letters not addressed to you!"

But she continued, reclining against her oak-wood wardrobe and paying her protest no mind as she began to read her father's most recent letter, which was the howler she had received last week. Of course, she had nothing to worry about in those letters, there definitely nothing in that anyone in this room didn't already know. The only one she wouldn't necessarily trust was Ron, and even then, she trusted Harry's judgement. Not to mention he hardly seemed in the coherent mindset. The content inside those letters was more embarrassing to her now than it was incriminating.

It only took Tracey a few seconds to make her way through it, holding it so close to her face one could be mistaken for thinking she was trying to eat it.

"Who is Mer… Merlooa? Merule?"

"_Mer-rule-a_," she said slow. "Merula Snyde. Why, what does he say about her?"

"Nothin' much, just mentions her a few times... Says his friends can't find her and that's bad news for you. By _friends_, does he mean…?"

She waved the letter around in vague gesture.

"Yes. Merula is one of them."

Her face turned to an ugly frown, followed slowly by a peculiar expression that Daphne couldn't place.

"Do I know her?"

"I can't imagine why you would?"

"I'm sure I have... Doesn't mum know the Snydes?"

It was the rare look of concentration that was on Tracey's face. On a broomstick this was quite natural, but she barely ever sported a look so determined in her day-to-day life. She was thinking very hard about something, and the second that occurred to Daphne, her mind also leapt to life.

What did that mean? Daphne thinking Merula looked familiar after a chance encounter was one thing, but if Tracey was able to recognise the name as well? Was there something obvious that they were both missing? Just as she felt like there was a realisation on the tip of her tongue, Harry brought attention his way, knocking on the table.

"You're out of wiggentwigs as well."

He almost yawned the words. She felt that. Tonight had been an eventful night for the both of them already, a potion problem was the last thing she'd expected at this time.

"Ah... bugger..."

He nodded.

"Yeah, so am I. That's the only thing I didn't have."

She brought her thinking hand to her mouth.

"Hmm. Oh - it'll have been Horace's lesson on miak brewing earlier this week. We needed wiggentwigs for that… Likely, all of us will be out."

He made a troubled face. He had been getting steadily impatient, which was understandable. Tracey pitched in from the side, apparently trying to be helpful now.

"Yo, I could have a check in my box?" she gestured over her shoulder and out of the dormitory. "I din't take Potions, so haven't touched mine since last year, I could 'ave some?"

"If you could spare some, please?"

Leaving the letter on the side, she brought herself off the wardrobe and left in a hurry. Her dormitory was only two down from hers, but her absence left the room enough time to readjust to the quiet, which was only broken by the bubbling from the cauldron. Ron seemed to be on his own realm of existence, she observed, which left only her and Harry.

She had been in the process of her nightly routine when Tracey disturbed her. Often sleeping naked, that meant all she was wearing presently was her velvet green dressing gown. Naturally, that made her feel exposed, but not in the way it normally would. Whatever excitement she _would _have been feeling from being near-naked in her dormitory with her boyfriend, was overshadowed by the ugly, blackened stain staring up at them from her forearm.

She looked away from it and back to the brew, but caught Harry doing the same. His eyes had flickered to her mark a few seconds longer than intended, and she had caught him staring. He turned away quickly. The speed at which he did so, one would have thought she had caught him in the act trying to sneak a peek beneath her dressing gown. Honestly, she would have felt less embarrassed if that was the case.

"It's…" she breathed a heavy sigh, "... nothing you haven't seen before."

Her consolation just seemed to make things worse. Harry deflated slightly.

"I am sorry about all this," he gestured over to Ron. "Don't let it spoil the night for you."

She wouldn't deny that steps had certainly been made in that direction, but wasn't there quite yet. Some souring of her evening was not enough to dampen the memories of their date, which were still fresh in her mind. And it was for that reason that she then decided to have a little fun with him.

"I confess…" she brought her mouth into an amused smirk. "I thought it was a... rather _different _reason you were visiting me, this evening."

He stared at her blankly, tense and confused. Her meaning was lost on him. Feeling a little brave, and more importantly, still a little tipsy, she took a glance at the ajar door to her dormitory before continuing.

"Well, we've been on and off for nearly a year now. All the while, never really having a chance for things to get serious… then you come bursting romantically into my dorm the night of our first date? Why, Harry! - you cannot blame a girl for being disappointed!"

She ended with an icy laugh.

A dawning realisation seemed to descend upon him at once. He looked quite suddenly between them and the open door of her dormitory.

"Ron, get out."

Ron, who had settled himself on the foot of her bed and half-fallen asleep there, suddenly stirred. But Harry was already gathering him and trying, aggressively, to drag him towards the door. The blind fury with which he moved made Daphne snigger.

"Harry!" she cried for him.

"No! Come on mate, out, now!"

He had just about wrestled Ron into a headlock and was in the process of dragging him from the room when Tracey reappeared through the doorway.

"Nah, sorry Daffy! Thought it was a long shot, I'm out too."

She skipped in cheerfully, completely unaware of Harry near-collapsing to the floor at the sight of her.

"Are we going to Romilda now, Harry?" Ron said loudly.

Tracey finally noticed the strange position Harry had forced them into and laughed at them.

"You could take him to Madam Pomfrey?" she offered."She's sound, she doesn't ask questions."

She shook her head, gesturing to the brew in front of her.

"I'm already brewing the potion. It'll be good to drink after I can add the wiggentwigs. There's probably some in the grounds, but I'm not authorising a trip out the castle at this time. Can we not think of anybody that may have some?"

Purposely ignorant to the look of sheer hypocrisy Harry was giving her, she continued stirring the potion.

"Sluggy, probably?" Tracey suggested. "He'd be able to sort us the right stuff out, right?"

She thought about it.

"He's not exactly allowed, but… well, I can't imagine him refusing. I'm one of his better students, and if I tell him they're for Harry he will most definitely agree."

With an audible amount of effort, Harry recovered from his position with Ron.

"We're not on the best terms, at the minute," he said as he rejoined them.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, just… a bit of a disagreement over something. I'm sure it'll be fine. Both of us there, as you say."

She shook her head.

"Actually, it'll probably be easier if I just go. It's late, me and Weasley are the only one allowed out, and he is incapacitated. You all wait here while I go ask him."

Tracey made a loud noise, making them both jump.

"I've wanted to go on a Harry-Potter-Hogwarts-Adventure since the Chamber of Secrets was opened! You are _not_ takin' this from me!"

"Quiet!" she hushed her. "And don't be ridiculous!"

But Tracey looked oddly happy she was being disagreed with her, as if she had been waiting on it.

"You'd really leave me alone in a dormitory with two boys? One of which is under the effects of an extremely powerful love potion? When _anything _could happen?! I thought you were a more responsible sister than that!"

It was hard to tell if she was joking or not. Of course, they both knew she was, but the way she smiled as she said that, it could go either way. She might just be assuming the worst, but she also didn't put it past her to try and seduce someone purely out of spite. Even Harry seemed to understand the possibility was real and tried to salvage the mood with a laugh.

She nodded in jaded defeat.

"Right. Fine. Everyone, under the cloak."

* * *

How they had managed to make it this far, she wouldn't have been able to guess.

They were walking in a tight group, with Tracey and her carrying the potion and the boys following up their rear. The invisibility cloak barely stretched over each of their ankles. All of their feet were clearly visible and it was for that reason her mood had done a one-twenty, and she was now thanking the Old Gods it was as late as it was. The annoying part of this was of course, the fact _she _had no reason to be hiding. As a Prefect she had no reason to be sneaking around after curfew, and it was only that she didn't trust herself carrying the weight of it alone, or wanted to risk levitating a bubbling potion, that was causing this act of mass-degrading.

"Can we slow down? I do not want to risk spilling this."

They were barely walking as it was, so now slowed to even more of a shuffle. With all of their bottom-half's visible, it really wouldn't have been a mystery to anyone passing that that they were here. She had the good sense to have put on a pair of shorts and a tank top under her gown before they left, and was very much glad of that decision now. It was getting extremely hot under the cloak, as everyone's breath began to join together.

After a while of moving like this, Tracey giggled.

"Oooooh, Harry... is that your wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Daphne's automatic response was to poof out her cheeks in attack-ready, but as she raised her voice to yell, Ron's drunken laugh filled the inside of the cloak.

"It's my dick, actually."

There was an explosion of screams as everyone dived away. All pretences abandoned, each of them leapt from under the cloak until he was the only one still under it.

There was a thunderous clang as Daphne's cauldron hit the floor, totally spilling her half-brewed potion all over the cobblestones. It gave a loud fizzle, steam rose up, and the potion was gone. A roar of frustration had been building steadily inside her, but by the time it finally worked its way out, it was drowned by Harry's far louder one.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" he yelled at his friend.

He snatched the cloak off his friend, whose face turned sour.

"Not my fault… being close to girls… not used to it, is all..."

But it was evident that he was existing on some otherworldly pane of reality to the rest of them. Tracey's thunderous howls of laughter echoed loudly through the dungeon corridor. She was enjoying this far more than she had any right to be. Daphne and Harry looked at each other in unanimous, angry agreement.

So much for their perfect night.

There was no point trying to be secretive now. Between the shouting, dropping of the cauldron and Tracey's laughing, probably the entire castle was aware of their exact position, how many of them there were and where exactly they were heading. At this point if they were caught, it would be easier to go with it and explain a good reason why they were out than it would be trying to mask their trail. Their best hope was to get to safety as quick as they could, as silently as they could.

She snatched her empty cauldron off the floor and stuck a sharp finger down the corridor.

"Go! All of you! Right now!"

With their heads down, everyone marched the direction in which she pointed like a troupe of school children obeying a teacher. Five minutes later they arrived outside the Potions Master's office, which was a door down to the room that held the Christmas Party late last term.

Hushing them to be quiet, Daphne knocked. She was growing worried Horace would already be long in bed by time they arrived and that their whole complicated journey would end up being for nothing. But then, a peep-hole gap slid open on his door and he appeared, wearing a similar dressing gown to her own and looking misty-eyed.

"Ahhh, Daphne my dear! Oh… and Harry? My, my!"

The tiredness rapidly swept from his face as his eyes met them both. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Hello, Horace. Sorry for disturbing you so late. Our friend Ronald Weasley here has been infected by a love potion and both Harry and I conveniently lack all the ingredients to brew him an antidote. We were wondering if you would be able to assist us? We brought our own cauldron?"

She held the cauldron up to meet his eye, hoping he wouldn't notice the small remains of their previous attempt till sloshing about inside.

Though the time of night was indeed working against them, apparently the sight of two of his favourite students was enough to make him relent.

"Of course! Come in, come in."

He clicked the door open and each of them filed inside respectively. Ron, who was the last in, knocked into the door and rebounded off it, tripping over a footstool and crashing into Tracey, who was barely able to support him in time. They struggled in place for a moment.

Tired and more than fatigued with their friend's antics, neither Daphne nor Harry made any attempt to help either of them. Eventually, Ron regained his balance by seizing Slughorn around the neck and pulling himself to his feet.

"Don't reckon she saw that, do ya?" he asked in a very staged whisper.

Finally, Harry had enough, dragged him roughly from their Professor and pushed him into an armchair. Clearly, he was still feeling quite sour about the opportunity Ron had robbed him of - she didn't blame him, either.

"My private collection is there," Horace gave a vague gesture to the opposite side of the room, " ehh... just under the dresser. Do help yourselves… I imagine a brew as simple as this would be an easy accomplishment for two of my best best students."

As he turned to close the door behind them, he jumped suddenly at the sight of Tracey, before then giving her an equally warm smile.

"Ah, you are also here, Miss Dacy!How nice."

Either she hadn't noticed he'd gotten her name wrong or was too polite to pull him on it, she smiled warmly back.

With cheeks blushing harsh with shame, Daphne bowed politely to her Professor.

"We will be quick. Thank you, Horace."

Horace's study was a comfortable set up. It was light by low-hanging torches and candles, and had an air about it that reminded her of the Slytherin common room. Their Professor himself looked ready for bed, and had half a glass of something strong smelling waiting for him by the fireplace. He was being polite to them, but she could sense hers and Harry's presence was out of place. No matter how good terms you were on with someone, nobody liked being disturbed this late in the evening.

It was for this reason that despite the comfortable setting, she felt very awkward as she moved across the room and began sorting through the ingredient cupboard. She thought of having Harry assist her again, but then decided his attention was best served distracting Horace until the potion was complete.

It didn't take long to get a small fire going under her cauldron and for her to begin again shifting ingredients into the bubbling liquid. As she began to work, she heard the rest of the group move around the room.

"Forgive me, my boy… I feel our wires have been mismatched, because I seem to recall you telling me…"

Horace was talking in a hushed tone, but was doing a bad job at being quiet. Harry jumped in quickly, answering in an equally secretive voice.

"We were in a bad state when I said that. We've made up now."

"Ahh, very well! That's good, then!"

But their conversation had gone on well within earshot and she couldn't pretend to be ignorant. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted them glance her way. She continued snapping the wiggentwigs for an awkward second, then turned reluctantly to them.

"Yes, Horace… We're also seeing each other. We were all along."

Honestly, the transparency of her and Harry's situation was the least she could offer in return for this favour. Call her naive, but she doubted he had a single untrustworthy bone in his body. She had found it difficult to even believe Harry's story of him earlier this night, and hadn't thought twice about revealing their true intentions to him just now. Of all the people in Hogwarts that could find out about her personal business, he was among the few she minded least.

On that note, it was a sudden occurrence to her that between him and Sirius, she was starting to build quite the close-knit community of trusty-worthy people in her life. Compare that to a year ago. In fact, if this whole situation had happened a year ago, she likely would have taken one look at the state of Ron and kicked all three of them from her dormitory. Part of her wished she was still capable of that - she really _had_ turned soft.

The old Professor beamed back at them both, clapping his hands together.

"Oh splendid! Splendid! And there was I excusing you and Miss Dacey of being an item!"

Beside him, Harry gave a confused look. Behind them both, Tracey looked pleased. Thankfully, nothing more was said on the matter.

She repeated the same movement brewing this potion she had done not half an hour before, but now with the bonus of actually having all the ingredients. The next ten minutes passed at a snail's pace, as Harry and Horace maintained polite, slightly uncomfortable conversation, with Tracey or a slurring Ron occasionally contributing.

"Where is she, Harry? You said she was in here? Is she waiting to surprise me?" Ron asked loudly into the room.

"Oh, not to worry! She's on her way, Wazlib, my boy!" Horace said, smoothly.

Clearly he had dealt with people in Ron's position before, she observed. Suppose things like this were regular occurrences that the castles resident potions master was just used to dealing with, then? A light-hearted image occurred in her mind as she again imagined this situation playing out a year earlier, but with them having to go to Professor Snape instead.

Horace patted a loud hand to Ron's shoulder, then turned again in her direction.

"How is that little pick-me-up coming, Daphne, dear?"

With a swaying of her wand, she added a few pinches of castor oil to the brew, causing it to turn blue. Then as she stirred it, it turned a very delux shade of purple.

"Ten more minutes," she answered. "Sorry again about all of this."

"Quite alright, as I say! Love antics and what-not! Practically part of being a teenager in my book! And there's no one I'm sure he'd want working on it more than yourself," he said, then after a moment, added, "except maybe Harry, that is!"

Daphne's expression dropped, just as Harry's leapt.

"Why, I haven't had a student study potions under me since the days of Severus Snape! A prodigy if I ever saw one!"

There had been an underlying tension rise whenever potions had come up as a subject. Of course, she was not fool enough to think it had been her tutoring that had given him this out-of-nowhere skill It was the fault of the Half Blood Prince and his infamous cheat sheet book. She would scold Harry for it, but success was success, there was no denying. But it definitely didn't make her feel good about the time she had wasted teaching him.

"Thank you, Professor... Really, Daphne taught me everything I know, though."

He let loose a loud scoff.

"I doubt that! You marks are far better than hers! She is a very close second of course, don't get me wrong!" he threw a meaningless smile her way. "But you truly are your mother's son, you know that? If you don't get a career as a potion brewer when you leave Hogwarts, why - why I'll eat my hat!"

The hand in which she gripped the ladle began gripping it that little bit tighter. Harry, at least, looked uncomfortable under their shared gaze. He had the common sense not to feel smug about it, then. Good.

Tracey hitched herself onto a reading desk, swaying her feet in the air playfully.

"Yanno, I'm surprised love potions like that are even legal. I reckon you could properly mess someone's life up with one of them. Mad that they sell it so readily!"

Unusually responsible words coming from her, Daphne thought, but didn't say. Horace moved to take centre stage in the room, as he often did during lessons.

"Well, you see, love potions that you'll find on the market are extraordinarily weak. They exist more for the novelty of it. Just take a look at Rabbity here! A professional love potion wouldn't do that! This is a commercialised kind, made simply for teenagers to play tricks on each other! Sold in joke shops, typically..."

He shook his head, then continued more seriously.

"... An _actual _love potion - one along the likes of Amortentia - now… With a steady supply of that, the feelings caused would be practically unrecognisable from the real thing… from an outsider perspective, at least. Only the brewer would know it wasn't genuine. It's for that reason those kinds of potions are extremely regulated by the ministry. Love can be a dangerous, dangerous thing."

Daphne nodded, watching her reflection distort in the bubbling cauldron water.

She knew all too well how correct he was.

"So he's not _actually _in love with her, then?"

Horace gave a chuckle.

"Of course not! No magic can create _actual _love, not even Amortentia! It can only replicate it! Trick the drinker into _thinking _they're in love. And I think you'll find that with the kind of off-brand stuff you get in the likes of Zonkos - of which I'm _sure_ Mr Wesley here has fallen victim to - they tend to fall more in the direction of obsession, rather than love."

Tracey pursed her lips as though kissing the air, thinking hard.

"Still pretty messed up, though. Hey, Harry, who gave him the potion, anyway?" she shouted to him.

Though trying to keep her attention on the potion, Daphne perked an eyebrow at this. The thought hadn't occurred to her to ask exactly who had been the source of spoiling her evening.

"Romilda Vane. Gryffindor, fourth year," he answered grimly. "Disguised as some Honeydukes chocolate. They were probably meant for me, Hermione says she's fancied me for a while."

Tracey gave a wicked cackle.

"Hear that, Daffy? You've got competition!" she cheered. "So how does it work then? Is it any girl he's in love with - er, obsessed with, or is it just Romilda, then?"

Horace brought a hard hand down on Ron's shoulder, making him jump in surprise.

"Well, she _is_ the object of his affection, but... Well, as far as hormonal teenage boys go, I can't imagine in this state that he is particularly picky. I should warn you not to get too close... Lest a very awkward morning after is what you seek! Oh!" he laughed.

At this, Tracey jumped down from the desk and sauntered a step closer to Ron and Harry, wiggling her hips far more than necessary.

"Hi there, handsome."

Ron grinned back at her. Daphne cringed. So, apparently, did Harry.

"He's got a girlfriend," he said as he came quickly between them.

Tracey laughed back.

"That didn't stop Daffy."

The wiggentwigs crushed in her hand. Harry recoiled in horror, Horace slapped a hand over his mouth.

For such a low blow, she had delivered it with such innocence and cheer. Though she then tried to laugh it off with her usual mischievous grin, the speed Daphne's glare caught her did cause a flinch.

"Leave it out, Tracey," she warned.

They glared at each other for a moment, then Tracey gave a snort, but otherwise fell silent. Even she seemed to have recognised - to a certain degree - that she had just crossed a line. Daphne's first instinct was to go on the defensive, but the more she thought about it, she did have a point.

Determined to move the subject on, she turned away from the cauldron, leaving it to bubble.

"Vane will be getting into trouble for this. I will be reporting her to Professor McGonagall. Love potions are forbidden in the castle grounds."

Horace gave a bellowed laugh.

"Come now, Daphne, my dear! A bit of harmless antics I would say, no? Nothing more sinister than that!"

She wasn't able to keep her glower up for love against his infectious grin.

"So..." Tracey began again, returning to her spot by the writing desk, "...what's the difference between legal love potions and illegal ones, then? How much trouble she gonna get in? Like, what's the limit?"

"Well as it stands, Amortentia and Yanderave are the only whose effects are strong enough to warrant their banning. And even then, there's plenty wiggle room. Why, everyone is aware love potions effect is simply unreliable to achieve the desired results, so everybody automatically discredits them. The confundus charm or Imperious curse would be far viable if one was trying to say, fake a marriage. The laws around love potions simply do not require vigorous upkeep."

She and Harry shared a quick glance with one another.

"Bit mental we're being taught how to brew them in school, then?" Tracey asked.

"Oh, my dear! Hogwarts will teach you a wide range of skills, but I doubt _all_ were designed to be used practically! I can't imagine any reason, for example, why the life-cycle of Blast-Ended Skrewts would be relevant to anybody who is not planning a very specific career studying them in the future!"

Daphne glowered darkly at her Professor. The ease at which that information had spilled from his mouth, it suddenly became a lot easier to imagine him accidentally letting slip information that would help a young, rising Dark Lord.

Horace suddenly clapped his hands together loudly, causing the group again to jump.

"Ahh, but of course! My attention has been on our resident Potions-prodigies, and I forgot that we have a rivalling number of Quidditch Players also we in our midst!"

As quickly as her mind filled with fears of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters, it was cleansed of them as an all new worry filled her mind. She tried to fire Horace as many discouraging warning glances as possible, but he continued obliviously.

"I am very sorry to hear about what happened at the last match, Miss Dacey, Blaise told me. From the way he tells it, it was quite the unfair encounter. Of course, you should know if there was anything I could have done about it, I most certainly would have done! I simply cannot stand injustice going on right under my nose! Sadly, my duties as Potions Professor only go so far… of course, if I had still been the Head of Slytherin House, things might have been different! I suppose needs are a must though, if it leads to a Slytherin victory! No offence to you Harry, my dear boy!"

For the first time, Tracey said nothing back.

When Horace did notice the looks Daphne was giving him, he didn't take the hint, but instead frowned back at her. Harry joined in, sealing the space between them with a similar expression.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"It wasn't about _winnin'_. It was about making a point."

From Daphne's position she couldn't see Tracey's face looked, but her tone of voice filled her in on what was about to happen. The topic of Qudditch had been carefully avoided the past few days and she doubted that in the presence of Harry, an avid Quidditch fan, was how she wanted it bubbling back to the surface.

"What? You didn't hear? Weren't you at the match?" she asked, her voice no longer bubbly.

"No, I was with Dumbledore... Sorry I didn't get to. But, I heard you guys won, didn't you? What happened?"

She sent another last ditch-attempt at glaring Harry into submission. She swore he was starting to enjoy it when she did that, as it was having less and less of an effect on him each time she did it.

"Slytherin won, but I sure as hell didn't. Snape replaced me as seeker, last minute. Draco took over."

Harry's head turned so fast, it looked as though an invisible assailant had snapped his neck from behind.

"What? Why!? You'd been training for it, what happened!?"

"He wanted his spot back, so they gave it him. That was it. No vote or anythin'! Didn't matter that _I_ had been to every practise and was helpin' out everyone on the team!"

"Why does he want to come back? Why now?" Harry asked, his voice growing increasingly louder.

Tracey moved, Daphne watched as she stormed across the office and leaned on the fireplace, staring scornfully into the flame.

"Dunno. Snape just said whatever_ prior arrangements_ he had were over. Bullshit, if you ask me. I reckon the whole thing was just done to prove a point. He'd gone too long without provin' he was better than the rest of us, so needed to flex some superiority."

Harry's temper was suddenly alive and rampant.

"That's ridiculous! That _is _bullshit! They can't not have you play! We were going to rematch for the cup!"

Tracey didn't look up from her position by the fire, her mood now irreversibly soured.

"It is what it is."

As Tracey's mood darkened, Dominique's words on the matter raged rampant in Daphne's head. There was nothing she could say that would improve Tracey's mood, how anyone could expect more than that was beyond her. She had no power over the Qudditch Team, so what more was there for her to do? She wasn't about to try and falsely boost her confidence, all that would be doing was setting her up for disappointment in the future. She listened to Tracey rant and tried to offer solid feedback on the situation. That was her duty and she had fulfilled it, both as a friend and a sister.

It didn't matter what Dominique said, _she_ knew she'd done all she was capable of. But that didn't help the sinking feeling she got that, now it was time for something to be said, she was meant to be the one saying it.

At this point, the potion turned a bright pink. That signalled the end of it's brewing cycle. Normally it was mandatory to leave it to settle for a few minutes before drinking, but Daphne was quick to scoop some of it into a flask and hold it up triumphantly. It wasn't anything she would submit for grading, but it would definitely get the job done. And she was looking for any way to move the subject past where it was.

"Here! This should be fine!"

She passed the hot vial to Harry, and he to Ron. Tracey perked her head up. As a group, they watched him drink it. For a moment, the red-haired boy continued beaming. Then, with a reigning look of horror, his grin dropped and he all of a sudden looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water at him.

"Oh god. These girls… they're bloody mental."

At this note, the group of four successfully became five and Ron Weasley was back with them. Harry pulled him into a reluctant hug.

"How'd you feel, you daft git?"

Ron smiled vaguely, patting his friend on the back.

"Could use a drink, not gonna lie."

Horace gave another cheer - the kind he had become known for - succeeding in making the group jump for the third time tonight.

"Now then, my thoughts exactly! I do realise it's probably not my place as a Professor to suggest it, but I figured since we're all friends here…"

He moved his way over to a drinks cabinet.

"Miss Travis could use the cheering, Wibbly here could definitely use a little pick-me-up… Daphne has successfully completed her Prefect duties by mixing an antidote to help out a fellow classmate, and Harry, well!" his face turned into a very bright smile. "Here's to forgiving and forgetting, yes? Hmm, I should think so! What will it be, everyone?"

Tracey leapt from her spot by the fire, rejoining the boys. Every trace of her mood vanished the second alcohol was mentioned.

"Oh, right on, Sluggy!"

"Let's see now, we have mead, butterbeer, oh, I am on my last bottle of this elf-made wine… hmm… I _was_ meant to be giving that to Dumbledore for Christmas, but can't see the issue. What'll it be?"

"The wine, please!"

Apparently she gave her answer suspiciously quickly, earning herself a stare off everyone.

Tracey nodded identically, Harry gave in too. Horace cracked open the bottle and poured the liquid between five glasses, then spaced them out. Tracey took two and then settled down, far too comfortably, onto the arm of Ron's chair, handing him a glass. Harry looked between them and Daphne, a vague smile on his face.

"You're getting hooked on this stuff, I swear."

Daphne, who had been lifting the glass up to take a large sip, froze where she was.

"I do not!"

It happened at the exact moment that Daphne blinked. She had closed her eyes on a room full of people, and upon reopening them, found that something was terribly wrong. Their company had halved. Tracey and Ron had vanished - only, they hadn't, they were still here, only on the floor, and… and...

"_TRACEY!"_

"_RON!"_

* * *

_Important A/N:_ Youtube is taking up a lot of time these days, I'm typically only completing these chapters the day that I am publishing them. As result, I've had to make the difficult decision to scrap the weekly upload schedule. The review count has dropped significantly and I'm not sure if that's reflective of readership or not. I will still see Daphne's story through to completion, but from now I'm setting a benchmark of ten reviews per upload before I begin work on the next (that's the best way I see of gaging viewership, anyhow). Doing this way means I'm not writing into the void, I don't have to sacrifice writing quality for the upload schedule and I'll receive all the correct kind of feedback from you lovely people. All that being said, hope you all understand and enjoyed this chapter, I'll see you soon!


	32. Harbinger

"Bit of a crappy date then, all-in-all?"

It was evening, the next day. The hospital wing was quiet and empty, with only two of its beds being occupied - homed to an unconscious Ron Weasley and Tracey Davis. The curtains were drawn around them, squeezing their visitors in close together. Hermione, Ginny, Sirius and Tonks crowded around Ron, while Tracey had Daphne, Dom and Daphne's younger sister, Astoria - whom Harry had only met once before - on her side.

Despite Sirius' attempt at lightening things, the mood was irreparably sour. The sound of their unconscious friends wheezing breaths was too loud to be ignored.

"Daphne prepared the antidote - How she was able to guess what poisoned them, I don't know... " Harry said, coming to a slow halt, and then mumbled, "_...I was just going to chuck a bloody bezoar down their throat._"

Though he delivered a compliment and a joke in quick succession, his tone wouldn't indicate it. The souls of his feet felt sore and rubbery from the pacing he had been doing between the two beds.

Daphne gave an inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet since it had happened - more so than usual for her. She merely sat by Tracey's side, furthest from the group, clench-jawed and fist wrapped tightly around her hand, like she was trying to squeeze her back into consciousness. He hadn't seen her so emotionally unsure in a while and was growing worried. She hadn't taken part in his recount of the last night's events, of which he had already relayed back to Madame Pomfrey, Dumbledore and Sirius separately.

"And that probably would have worked, Mister Potter!"

The group gave a collective jump as Madam Pomfrey brought back the curtains. She pushed between them, aggressively tending to Ron and Tracey, who were nonethewiser to her presence.

"But! We're lucky Miss Greengrass was also there! With her quick thinking, I suspect these two will be making a full recovery by tomorrow evening!"

With a fragile voice, Astoria spoke up.

"If they're fine, why aren't they awake?" she asked concernedly.

Madam Pomfrey gave a simple shake of her head.

"Potion-induced coma, dear. Best to slow down their systems, just in case. Looks far worse than it is, I assure you!"

The reassurance was hollow, however, and did nothing to brighten the group's mood. Madam Pomfrey stopped by Daphne's side.

"Hoping I could have some words, Miss Greengrass? Miss Davis has very peculiar family records, I'm struggling to track down her next of kin…"

Her head snapped up like she'd been woken from a trance. She didn't look like she wanted to answer that, nor talk to anybody in private. Sirius came suddenly to her rescue.

"I can handle that, don't worry, Poppy. I'll sort everything. They've had a long night, best leave the kids be."

The healer fluttered her eyes at Sirius and made off in a timely manner.

Harry's eyes were still on Daphne. She, like him, was still in her pyjamas from last night. The knowledge that his best friend was indeed going to be alright had washed over him like a sheet of ice water when he had heard it, which was an hour ago. But after his anger and frustration dissipated, there wasn't much of him left over now. Whatever relief he should have been feeling was being drowned by the exhaustion finally enveloping him.

After more minutes of this stark silence, Tonks spoke.

"Slughorn's been confined to his office. We reckon it was him who tried to do Katie Bell in then, as well?"

There was a long pause and it became apparent everyone was waiting on him to answer. He couldn't think what had lead her to that conclusion, nor why everyone was waiting on him to confirm it.

"What?" his voice cracked. "No, no, not at all… I don't _think _so, anyway… Why? What do you mean?"

Tonks looked around the cubical with an expression that said they were all missing the obvious.

"Well? He was there when Bell touched the necklace, wasn't he? That's what the report says - now he's poisoning these two - it's obvious, right? Both times he probably got something mixed up and was going for you and Daphne. I'll summon Kingsley, shall I?"

It took a gross spluttering of noises before he was able to formulate a response to that.

"But, but, but - he'd have no reason to do that! Would he?"

At this, Daphne spoke for the first time in hours. She said something quietly to Astoria. Only, it hadn't registered to him she was talking to her, or that it was even Daphne talking at all.

She had turned, pulled her sister's hands to her face and caressed it gently against her own cheek. It was a surprisingly motherly act, and just about the most opposite way he had ever see her behave. It took all effort he had not to stare. _He_ knew there was a more gentle side to Daphne, he just wasn't expecting her to reveal that side in front of a group of people. Suppose that was an insight into how much she cared about her sister - which made him feel even worse for his role in what played out last year.

Astoria pouted.

"Can I not stay?"

Daphne shook her heard sternly.

"She will make a full recovery, there's no need. Dominique will go with you," she said louder, sounding like she had a very bad cold.

Behind them, Dom's face twisted as though she suddenly had smelt something foul.

"Ah most 'ertainly will not! Ah am staying with 'er!"

Quick as a flash, Daphne fixed her with a stare. Her chin became hard, her eyebrows sharpened and her usually perky lips pressed into the thinnest of lines. Watching her do this felt rather like watching the effects of Polyjuice potion, as Harry was sure he'd just witnessed a transformation between two different people. Hermione also watched this, with a particularly hard stare of her own.

With a very guttural groan, Dom obeyed. She brought herself off the back of the chair she was resting on and left through the curtains, not stopping to look back at anybody. Astoria took Daphne's hand again and bounced once on her heels.

"Will you tell me when she wakes up?"

She gave a single, solitary nod.

"I'm going now, Madam Pomfrey!" he heard through the curtains.

"Back Wednesday for your prescription, dear!"

"See you then!"

He vaguely remembered Astoria had some medical issues. It had been mentioned in passing to him, but they'd never had a full conversation about it. As Daphne turned back to face them, it was with a sullen and stern expression.

"Horace has a heart of gold, he isn't a Death Eater. I would have been told if he was."

A collective sigh pressed through the cubical. Apparently, Harry hadn't been the only one not wanting him to be guilty. Tonks cocked her hip to the side, looking to be thinking hard.

"What do you think, Sirius?" she asked.

Sirius didn't meet her gaze. He was still watching the hole in the curtain Astoria through which had vanished.

"No, I... don't believe the potions master was... responsible," he mumbled.

"Really? Even if he was under the imperius curse?"

Her question went unanswered. Harry tried to shift his position and see Sirius was looking at, but stopped as he abruptly came back to them.

"That girl…" he gestured. "We'll have to intercept her owls. She's scared and she'll want reassurance. We can't risk Benedict being kept in the loop about this."

"_Why_ don't you think it was Slughorn, Sirius?" Tonks pushed.

Daphne's head again perked at the mention of her father. It took a second, but his silence was an answer in itself. Sirius' deeper meaning occurred to Tonks, who straightened up. All eyes sank slowly to Daphne.

"You do not honestly believe my _father _did this?"

She then seemed to recognise how hastily she'd spoken and made an effort to rationalise her tone, starting again.

"... look, father _is _horrible - genuinely, awful - but he wouldn't do this. He loves Tracey… in his own messed up way... Well, maybe not _her_, but he loves our Mother, anyway. He wouldn't do this. And… And! Anyway, he has absolutely no reason to try and curse Bell!"

It was clear the accusation had caught her off guard, and she looked very unhappy with the way she'd handled it. Sirius came in by her side, talking slow and cool.

"_But_ he would have reason to try and get to Harry - through you. Think about it. You essentially form a direct path for Voldemort to get to him. Benedict _has _just been in school, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip something in here that shouldn't be. Too much evidence there for us not to properly investigate it, anyway."

Her eyebrows creased in a hostile glare and her tone switched to something that, if Harry had been the one talking to her, would have made him shrink instantly down.

"He hadn't been anywhere _near _the school when Bell was attacked! And at that point... Harry and myself were on a _break_, so the link he had was gone. Father had no way of cursing Bell, so it would be unfair to assume he had something to do with this, either."

Sirius shook his head, keeping his cool.

"You can't say for _sure _he was nowhere near the school. You don't know that. Bell and Harry are on the Quidditch team together, which means she has access to him as well. Less than you do, granted, but still… It makes sense if he can't get you, he'd go for someone inconspicuous, rather than try for someone else in his friend group."

"How would he know who was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team? Without asking me? And no - I am sorry - but if he was anywhere near the castle at that time then he _would _have mentioned it to me!"

Tonks leered in.

"You're being quite defensive about this?"

But Sirius rounded on her.

"Shut it! Look - Daphne - we aren't saying he is working alone. And he could easily have gotten information anywhere about the team, then waited in Hogsmede for someone he recognised -"

"- And just as easily any other Death Eater could have done that, as well!"

She was getting quite red in the face. To be carrying this on, Sirius was braver than he was. It was clearly a fragile topic - he either hadn't noticed this or didn't care.

Harry had no wish to see her with her temper up, so set about thinking to defuse the situation. Benedict was indeed the Death Eater that had the most access to him, so it made the most _logical _sense he was behind it... but he just needed a devil's advocate he could inject in and derail the rising argument. He got the idea from Daphne, seeing her deflect the heat off herself by bringing up Ron and Hermione's argument in front of them. He raked his mind, then after a minute, the thought of Dumbledore occurred to him, and the important mission he had been given in regards to Slughorn. He had to drag this retort from the pit of his stomach.

"Look - could the poison have been meant for Slughorn? Could it have been unrelated? Someone was just trying to poison him and we got in the way?"

Tonks frowned at him.

"Who would want to poison Slughorn?"

"Slughorn is valuable to Voldemort," he gestured importantly. "He knows a lot of people. Death Eaters have been after him since they reformed, the whole _reason _he came back to Hogwarts was to get away from them trying to recruit him."

He fought hard to avoid yawning at the end of his sentence. His words hung in the air for a dramatic second, then Sirius nodded.

"Not unlikely. If they can't have him, no one can. That falls in line with their belief system."

Mentally, Harry wanted to pat himself on the back. It was at this point that Hermione, who had remained silent and content to listening, spoke up.

"So... Daphne's father was trying to poison Professor Slughorn, on behalf of You-Know-Who?"

Harry glared at her.

"My father was not a part of this!" Daphne snapped annoyingly at her.

Sirius struck out his arm to silence them. Daphne simmered on the spot for a second, then reclined back into her chair, something Harry wished he could do right now.

"That might be true, Daffy, but for right now, we need to consider it..." Sirius began again, sounding calmer now. "... With Lucius in Azkaban, that makes him the highest ranking Death Eater that has ties to someone in the castle. So far as we know, anyway. Assassinations like these were abundant in the first war and we're getting a handful of cases like that now. Bertha Jorkins, Barty Crouch, Ameila Bones, all gone. All in similar circumstances to how these two nearly died."

Hermione interrupted him with a gasp.

"Ameilia Bones is _dead_?"

Tonks delivered a swift slap to the back of Sirius's head, who looked like he had just trodden in something foul.

"Shouldn't have said that. Yeah, she is. Don't tell anybody yet. Look - we can't just ignore that that happens not a week after we have a Death Eater in the castle!"

Daphne, who didn't seem fazed by the death of a high-ranking ministry official, glowered at him.

"There were _three _Death Eaters in the castle on that day. My father, myself and Professor Snape. It wasn't my father, of that you have my word. And it wasn't me, but I'll submit to vertiserium _again _if it pleases you. Maybe Professor Dumbledore should reconsider who he has on his staff, because that leaves the only other suspect one who is very talented at potion-making! He could _probably _get a job in it."

It was one thing hearing Daphne angry, but he hadn't heard her sarcastic before.

"You'll have a chance to warn him yourself," Tonks said.

Whatever anger she was feeling looked to boil away instantly. At that moment, the gap in the curtains reopened and Dumbledore himself entered, flanked shortly after by the heads of their respective houses, Snape and McGonagall. While Dumbledore seemed in good spirits, less couldn't be said about the two of them. Tonks and Hermione straightened up and Sirius pulled a nasty scowl at Snape. The Headmaster looked in a better mood than the last time Harry had seen him, which had been the night Daphne and he had returned to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore gestured vaguely into the scene before him.

"Go on, Severus."

Snape sneered.

"Headmaster, is it really appropriate to discuss sensitive information in front of-"

"Go _on_, Severus."

With a roll of the eyes, he brought out the same wine bottle that Harry had seen Slughorn with last night. He handed the bottle to Sirius and Tonks, who cradled it between themselves.

"Found to contain traces of Swooping Evil venom," he explained. "The normally pungent odour was disguised by the scent of the wine. That, given also with the bottle showing signs of tampering, means Horace likely had no idea what he was _illegally _serving his students... Would have died himself, if he'd gotten around to drinking it… We should thank the old ones that our potions _protegees _were there to save the day."

Tonks frowned at Snape.

"I thought it was always the new Professor whose the dodgy one? That's the way it was when we were kids. Has someone changed the script without telling us?"

Daphne stared at her.

"It's the Defence Against the Dark Jobs position that's said to have the curse over it. Horace is the _Potions _Professor."

Tonks gave a fed up sigh, obviously irritated by her ideas being so continuously turned down. Dumbledore gestured fatherly to Daphne.

"It was indeed quick thinking on your part, Miss Greengrass. Ten points to Slytherin. You must be very proud of your student, Severus."

Snape had an unreadable look on his face.

"Indeed."

McGonagall was quick to jump in next, more panicked than the other two.

"Headmaster, I think without doubt we are all proud of the way our students behaved last night - but the real question should be, why were their actions necessary?"

Tonks clapped her hands together, Harry could sense there was some annoyance behind it.

"Suppose it is all unrelated, then? I mean, someone could just as easily have a grudge against the Quidditch Players, couldn't they? First Katie Bell as the Chaser, Ron the Beater, Davis was replacement…"

"The _Slytherin _seeker."

Hermione scoffed at them.

"I very much doubt it was anything to do with Qudditch!"

"But there _could _be a connection there."

The girls grew quiet. Everyone turned to Sirius expectantly.

"Not _Qudditch_, I mean, but in general! There's no way the two attacks aren't related. The situations are practically identical. If we find out who cursed Bell, bet my life it'll be the same person who spiked these two."

Snape cocked a eyebrow.

"Identical, Black?"

Sirius nodded importantly.

"Well, look at it, for one thing - both attempts were meant to be fatal to whoever received them, but were interrupted before they had chance. Now, I don't see why anyone would go out of their way to poison _these two_ specifically, and if the full bottle was infected, that means the intended target could have been anyone. We know Katie was trying to give the necklace to Dumbledore, so -"

Daphne cut him off.

"The wine was meant for Dumbledore, too" she blinked, "_Professor_ Dumbledore, I mean. I just remembered - Horace told us he planned to give it to you as a gift, Headmaster."

This bombshell caused another moment of silence. Harry was very tired now. He should have been alarmed by this revelation, but was busy wondering if he could squeeze beside Ron on the bed.

"So... now we know someone is trying to assassinate Dumbledore. Wonderful," Sirius sighed. "And who do we know who has the most reason to do that?"

Tonks gave a loud laugh.

"You want the list? Yikes, alright," she held out her hand and went to each of her fingers. "Voldemort, Fudge, Umbridge, Torquil Travers, Grindlewald…"

Sirius flicked her in the ear. After squeaking, she shut up.

"Voldemort, precisely. The question is - who through? We need to find out, because whoever they are, they pose more of a threat to the school than he does, right now. It's apparent they don't care who they have to take down to get to Dumbledore."

All together, Dumbledore seemed to be taking the news that there was an assassin out to get him rather well. He looked to be avidly listening to each point made. Everyone's eyes slowly turned to him, waiting to hear his take. Before he could respond to this ominous proclamation however, the hospital wing doors flew open yet again, making them all jump.

"WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS MY WON-WON!? WHERE IS HE!? OH, THERE HE IS! HAS HE BEEN ASKING FOR ME!? IS HE OKAY?"

Lavender came rushing towards them, her hair messy and cheeks shining with tears. Daphne leapt up and brought the curtain closed between the beds, hiding her and Tracey from view. But for as much attention as Lavender gave anyone else, she and Harry could have been naked in the bed opposite and wouldn't have been noticed.

She reached the foot of the bed and suddenly stopped, glaring daggers at Hermione.

"What is _she _doing here?"

Harry wasn't quite sure who this question was directed at, only that it very clearly wasn't Hermione. Hermione struggled to her feet, quickly trying to put on an intimidating face.

"I might ask you the same!"

Lavender gave a loud and ugly cough.

"I happen to be his _girl_friend!"

"And I happen to be his…" she tripped on her words, "...friend!"

"OH! Don't make me laugh! You haven't spoken to him in weeks! And I suppose you want to make up with him now that he's suddenly all interesting!"

Hermione's face twisted unpleasantly and Harry distinctively saw Sirius pulling a similar expression.

"HE'S BEEN POISONED, YOU DAFT BIMBO!"

A snort sounded from either Sirius or Tonks. Though, on reconsideration, it could just have easily come from Dumbledore.

Hermione frowned, embarrassed and continued.

"And for the record, I've _always _found him interesting!"

Apparently the raise in volume had some effect, as the previously unconscious Ron stirred a little. Everyone turned to watch him. He snorted loudly, licked his lips, coughed, but stirred no further.

"Ha! See?!" She shrieked with triumph. "He senses my presence! I'm here, Won-Won! I'm here!"

She pushed her way through Snape and Dumbledore and reached Ron's side, where she took his hand and held it against her face. Ron, still in a haze, reached blindly out to her face.

"_... err… 'mion… nee…"_

Though barely audible, the name was very apparent.

Sirius and Tonks snickered. Lavender gave a loud huff and then, vibrating with sheer rage, stalked back out. A long silence hung in her wake. Blushing, Hermione took Ron's hand.

There would be some very awkward conversations later.

Dumbledore beamed.

"Well, that was awkward, wasn't it? Oh, to be young!"

Daphne shook her head.

"_People wonder why I avoid drama…" _

But truth be told, Harry had only been half paying attention to what was happening. He should be happy his friend's issues were sorted out, and that they were both indeed going to be okay. But his mind was on a separate reality to what was unfolding in Hospital Wing. There was a stirring inside him and he felt on the cuff of a realisation, one that was hurtling towards him a hundred miles an hour. And then, the cogs clicked into place.

He'd been so preoccupied of late, his wider worries and concerns had been pushed to the back of his head. When this realisation struck him, however, it was as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. Adrenaline started to move through him as he straightened stiff as a board, his mind suddenly wide awake. He needed to think more clearly. He needed to clear his head. Nothing had ever seemed so simple, but he wasn't in the state to make right sense of it. The logic was there, the evidence was there, but why? Why was it all linked together this way?

"Sirius, a word."

Harry didn't wait or look back. The world around him moved in an unnatural way, but he knew that was more down to the fact he'd been up thirty five hours than it was any of last nights wine still in his system. He left the Hospital Wing and got half down the next corridor before pulling to the side and uncurling a large map out his back pocket. The corridor air was chilly through his pyjamas, giving him enough shock to the system to find what he was looking for.

He found it, of all places, in the girls bathroom of the second floor.

A rough hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Harry! Bloody hell lad, wait up!"

He turned quickly, stuffing the Marauders Map messily into his trousers.

"I was right, Sirius!"

Sirius frowned quizzically at him.

"'Bout what?"

"Daphne's right, it wasn't her dad! Or Slughorn! I was thinking it at the start, but then everything happened with Daphne and I thought I was wrong! Or that it wasn't important! Now it adds up! I was right, just not in the way that I thought I was, Sirius!"

His mouth wasn't working the way it usually was. If only he wasn't so tired, then he'd be able to articulate this epiphany properly.

"What're you saying?"

"She said it, there isn't _two _Death Eaters in the castle - there's three!"

When his godfather didn't have the look of jubilation he'd been wanting, he summoned the energy to find his voice again.

"It's Malfoy!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, Harry-"

"Sirius, listen! He was given a mission by Voldemort as well! Daphne said so! First Katie gets cursed, which could have happened to anyone, but Tracey _and _Ron? Who do they have in common? Me! Dumbledore's not the target - I am! _That's_ why Malfoy has been quiet all year, he doesn't want it to seem obvious! Daphne's mission was to make me trust her, what if Malfoy's was to try and kill me?"

But Sirius still wasn't matching his energy.

"They sound rather... counterproductive, to each other?"

With an increasingly angry feeling washing over him, he broke from his godfather's grip. He _knew _he was right, he just wasn't in the right state to make his point. If he could sleep, or have a pepper up potion, he'd be able to explain properly. But he couldn't do that now, not while Malfoy was right out in the open. It was too perfect of an opportunity to let it go. Each second that went by was one they couldn't regain.

He turned to storm off, but Sirius dragged him back.

"Harry, I'm not saying what you're saying doesn't make sense, we just need to be sure! Now, obviously we can't just barge into one of Malfoy's lessons and arrest him for being a Death Eater!"

"Of course we can! You're an Auror, aren't you? That's your job! I know where he is! Let's go now before he moves!

"If we do that without evidence and without _also _arresting Daphne, it's going to look obvious who spoke! And then how bad is it going to look if he turns out _not _to be one?"

This was the most he'd gotten towards shouting at Sirius. What was it he couldn't see? Was it he the problem? Was he just rambling, or was Sirius the one not understanding him?

"She was on vertiserim when she confessed! Of course he is one! Whatever the mission is that Voldemort set for him, _this _is it! I don't have the pieces put together yet but it's obviously all him! Now let's _go_!"

"Right! Say he is, then again, this is _delicate, _Harry, please try to understand! I'm not saying it doesn't make sense! I'm just trying to piece it together!"

Tonks appeared suddenly over their shoulders.

"You two aren't good at being quiet, yanno? Little louder and those two won't need any potion to wake them up."

Harry's heart was beating a loud rhythm against his Adams apple.

"Tonks! You were there! You heard her say Malfoy was a Death Eater over Christmas, didn't you? You heard her say he took the mark!?"

Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Harry! Calm down - nobody is saying we didn't! We all were there, we all heard, but we need to handle this correctly!"

"How can you say that? How can _you _say that?"

"I'm sorry?"

Harry deflated pathetically. Why weren't they understanding him? Why was Sirius, one of the people he was sure would be on his side, being so difficult?

"Sod you, then."

He took off in a run in down the corridor. He didn't know what he was planning to do, but he knew where he was going.

"_HARRY!_" someone called after him.

He wasn't sure who, but didn't much care at this point. If they weren't going to do anything, he would do it himself.

He couldn't hear anything but his own pounding heartbeat. He was rapidly feeling the angriest he had been in his entire life. One foot hit the marble floor, the other following without the slightest thought, as if his legs had taken on a life of their own. All he could do was concentrate on the view ahead of him.

His chest beat wildly as he tore down the corridor. His stomach twisted unpleasantly inside him. He made it through the castle in record time, driven only by this unbridled force.

As another corner came into view, he realised this anger was one he'd felt before. The anger and frustration about not being understood, the helplessness - this was how Daphne made him feel when she left him. And the _reason _she had left him also occurred to him. Images of her and that damned tattoo flashed over and over in his mind like a slideshow. That night by the train station... he thought it was Malfoy and then later convinced himself it wasn't…The true implications of everything were only just descending on him. He'd almost lost her last night. If he had been a second later, she'd have drank the poison as well.

Then, he saw his mother in his mind. She was the first person he lost to Voldemort. He wasn't going to let it happen again.

He crashed right into a suit of armour. His mind suddenly ceased it's flood of emotion and memories. The loud crash brought him out of his trance; all he could was grasp desperately around to stabilise his fall. He stumbled, tripped over the shin pads of the knight and only just stopped himself hitting the ground by grabbing the sword of the knight next to him. As he lifted his head to start again, he saw the damage already done.

Clearly alerted by the noise, Malfoy stood half-way through the door to the bathroom, staring back at him. And Harry realised, with shock so huge it rooted him to the spot, that he'd been crying.

Malfoy gasped and with a shudder, drew his wand at him. Harry realised far too late what he was coming. A hot rush passed by his face as he sent a hex his way, missing him by inches and shattering the mounted Knight he'd propped himself against. Instinctively, emotionally, Harry wheeled around and drew his own wand. He threw himself to the ground and cast a spell.

"_STUPEFY!"_

There was a loud bang and the door to the bathroom exploded. It caused a dust explosion that hid Malfoy from sight. Harry crawled, but as he tried to draw himself back up, he dove again, narrowly missing another spell sent his way.

They were now in a full blown duel in the middle of the school corridor. He attempted a leg-locker curse but missed again, backfiring it off the wall and smashed apart a wall-mounted lamp. Fire and ash exploded everyone and he dove to the ground, just as the enchanted fire began to spread along the corridor floor around them. The fire reached Malfoy, who tried to side-step away from it. It gave Harry the chance to fire off a successful blasting curse, which impacted Malfoy's chest like he'd been hit by an invisible Troll. He grunted and staggered blindly against the marble wall, before plunging himself back toward Harry.

The raw anger behind Malfoy's spell made it difficult to dodge - Harry did so with only seconds to spare. Malfoy was letting loose. Sweat was starting to pour off him as he hurtled to the side to avoid a curse, his shoulder hitting the wall side. He took a gulp and soldiered on, pushing his body as far as it would go. All the anger and rage that had bubbled inside him was finally being released.

They both jabbed identically meeting in the middle with their wands pointed.

"_CRUCI-"_

"_SECTUMSE-!"_

"_IMMOBULUS!"_

Both spells were cut off by the third, which had been shouted louder and more powerfully than either of theirs. A loud ringing over took his ears and he was unable to move.

He blinked hard a few times, silently reabsorbing his senses.

He looked around. The corridor was in ruin. It looked on the receiving end of one of Fred and George's pranks gone wrong. The floor was a mess of armour and soot, a large fire blazing beside them, with dark charcoal stains coating the walls where unsuccessful spells had impacted. Harry watched the scene, horrified by what he had done, when the fire went out in a hiss.

Slowly, with heeled footsteps loud on the marble floor, Daphne stepped into view, her face livid. Her wand was pointed at Malfoy.

"I could kill you right now and claim it was in self-defence."

He could not find it in himself to say anything to that. She spoke with such seething hatred in her voice, that for a second he was worried she was about to do exactly that. So was Malfoy, as his rage seemed to simmer out and be replaced by fear as he looked worriedly between the two of them. But when it became apparent she hadn't killed him yet, his gaul was quick in returning.

"Do it, then! Filthy blood traitor… bet you want to! Make the Sacred Twenty-Eight even less!"

The spell holding them released and they both half-sagged to the floor. Harry was grateful Malfoy hadn't decided to resume their fight, as he didn't think he'd have been able to stop him in time. Either from rage or from freight, he was shaking.

Daphne wasn't alone. A second later, Dumbledore, Sirius, Tonks, McGonagall and Snape came around the corner. They each reacted appropriately to the scene before them. Harry did his best to avoids McGonagall's glare as he looked pathetically between Dumbledore and Sirius.

"I think…" the Headmaster began softly, breaking the silence that had settled, "... It is the Head of House's responsibility to deal out punishments. I shall leave you to their mercy. Professor McGonagall, may you please escort Harry back to his dormitory, and Professor Snape, do the same with Mister Malfoy?"

His mouth lulled vaguely open in protest. Dumbledore turned to Daphne.

"Miss Greengrass, you are awarded ten points more for fulfilling your duty as Prefect. You may return to the Hospital Wing to watch over your family."

Harry didn't know what to say, just that he _needed_ to say something.

"He started it! He's a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore smiled at him pleasantly.

"Let's move along before we cause a scene now, shall we?"

Sirius glared hard at him.

* * *

_A/N Thank you all for being so supportive with this story. Sorry if this one felt like a bit of a canon-catch up, expect big deviations to come soon. I look forward to hearing your thoughts._


	33. Hell Hath No Fury

Three days had passed since their unfortunate date night. It would go down in Daphne's memory as one of the best, yet also worst, nights of her life. As much as she tried to remember it for the good that happened, the bad thoughts just couldn't be helped from seeping in and polluting it. It summed up her entire life really - she finally had something nice, innocent and healthy going, only for it to then be ruined by the mistakes of her past. It was exactly the same as what happened at Grimmauld Place over Christmas. And she was the sole one to be blamed for it.

She had been in an increasingly dark place since it happened - almost losing Tracey was one thing, but the fact she couldn't even trust Harry not to make the situation a million times worse on itself… She hadn't seen him since she split up his and Draco's duel. Not that it mattered, because the way she heard it, he'd been that busy with detentions that she wouldn't have gotten the chance even if she had wanted to.

"Do you think I could fit an entire bottle of skele-gro in my mouth?"

"Sit back in bed or I'll deduct house points!"

Tracey was back to her usual edgy and bubbly self, at least. Daphne had been making an effort to visit her each evening to bring her homework and snacks. The bed-bound lifestyle was driving her up the wall, which wasn't helped by the fact that outside of her, Dominique and Astoria were her only visitors. Blaise had attempted it, apparently trying to make peace after her unlawful boot from the Quidditch team, but had just ended up in the bed on the opposite side hers. She had hit him between the eyes with a stinging hex. She'd gotten a scolding and detention for it, but feeling her frustration was the tiniest bit justified, Daphne conveniently forgot to take house points from her.

There was an inescapable idea floating in her head. The acknowledgement that she was solely responsible for Tracey spending these nights in a hospital bed. Even if the poison had been intended for her, Professor Slughorn, Professor Dumbledore, or whoever-in-Merlin's-name they had decided it was for, the fact remained that it was her idea that lead them to the office that night. And the root of that reason was, she had gone back to Harry. She didn't regret that choice, not in the slightest, but was rapidly coming to learn there really was no separating the art from the artist. Endangering the ones you care for was apparently, simply part of the status quo in Chosen-One life.

Not being on chatting terms with Dominique anymore, Tracey's absence was a noticeable one. It took her back to the time that she was public enemy number one in Hogwarts. The difference now that the seething hatred towards her wasn't coming from others - it was coming from herself. The entire day she had a feel about her that if she were to stand up too fast, the entire contents of her stomach would coat whoever was unlucky enough to be within spraying distance.

When Professor Snape released them at the end of Defence Against the Dark Arts at the end of the week, she lingered behind. The students drained out around her and she caught Harry's eye. He nodded to her and though it took a second to decide, she nodded back. Normally she would have been able to keep up being cross with him a few days longer, but the gap left in her social life had weakened her. Her eyes then ventured to Dominique, who had stopped half way through approaching her. It was obvious she was itching to ask about Tracey, and was currently weighing in her mind if it was worth it.

The concern she had displayed for Tracey this whole ordeal seemed genuine, which conflicted with the image of the girl Daphne had built up in her mind. Looking embarrassed, she abandoned the attempt and left with the others. Daphne wanted to consider this further, but couldn't find the effort.

She came to Professor Snape's side, who was sorting through scrolls on his desk.

"Same as the rest of you. Chapter twenty-eight to thirty-one. So long as she reads them - _actually _reads them - there's no reason she can't hand in her work on the deadline."

He said all of this without looking her way. He was distracted by something, something that wasn't the paperwork he was fiddling with. In fact, he had seemed very distant from their lessons these days in general. More than once he stumbled over his words or repeated himself. Nodding, she picked up a few blank pieces of parchment and left. Her new revelation would probably have been of importance to him, but she still found herself too conflicted on what she believed his allegiance was. There was a part of her listening to the good sense he was putting out and urging her to trust him - that he really _was _the only one truly on her side, and though she may not readily acknowledge it, she was slowly starting to lean into that way of thinking.

But she wasn't willing to take that risk just yet. What she needed to do, she needed to do on her own. Tracey and Harry were about the only ones she would trust with that information and even telling them was a begrudging decision.

She went down for dinner, ate alone and in silent contemplation. A number of seats away from her was Draco. As far as she was aware, Professor Snape had gotten him off punishment for the duel with the excuse of him being provoked.

Since it happened, an insurmountable amount of rage rose inside her at the thought. It didn't make sense, considering Draco personally had done less to her than the likes of Pansy or Professor Snape, but it was hatred founded on principle. In many ways, he was in the same boat as her, working as a hand of the Dark Lord, but he didn't seem to have any qualms about obeying. If anything, he seemed eager to make up for his father's mistakes. He was in her situation, but choosing the direct opposite approach. He was continuing to make the same bad decision she had so many times in the past - meaning it was impossible for her not to see a little of her old self in him.

As hatred bubbled inside her, festering in the pit of her stomach like a brewing volcano, she tightened a hand over her wand. Secretly, she wished it had been her in the duel instead of Harry. And if Draco suddenly decided to target her for some revenge over it, she would greet his challenge with open arms. She would shatter every belief he held close and leave him quivering and begging for mercy. She wanted to prove to him, as painfully as possible, that her new way of thinking was the right way. She knew exactly how superior he felt over her and Harry - because it was the same exact delusion she used to hold over other people. She wished she could punch her old self; and now every bit of that frustration was going towards him now.

She finished eating and left the Great Hall quickly. When she reached the Hospital Wing, her palms were sweaty and she felt quite sick. Helplessness was not a feeling she was familiar with, and it was exactly how she felt thinking about him. She couldn't openly act against him - _she_ could understand that, unlike some - but Merlin's Beard it was killing her every day she didn't.

As she approached the cordoned off bed, she heard not one voice, but two. One of them was expected, belonging to Tracey, but the other made her slow to a halt.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Though she cursed Tracey for never respecting others privacy, curiosity instantly got the better of her as she leaned closer to the curtain, trying hard to catch the next words said.

"Yeah. How'd you tell?"

"Well... if he was in Azkaban then he'd have broken out with the rest of 'em last year, wouldn't he?"

A slow but sudden gasp sounded from the other occupant, who it was now obvious, was Moria Davis - Tracey and Daphne's shared mother.

"You were hopin' that was the case, weren't you?" she asked, sounding both surprised and sad. "Tracey - I'm sorry - it didn't even occur to me you'd be looking out for that."

There was a sniff and Daphne realised that, despite them having known each other their whole lives and not witnessed it once, she was hearing Tracey cry for the second time this month.

"How'd he die, then?" she asked, her voice breaking.

She suddenly felt guilty overhearing this conversation, but making the effort to remove herself never occurred.

"Dunno, to tell you the truth... Sneaky as he could be, he had a good heart in him. I reckon he tried backin' out and You-Know-Who saw to him. Or others did on his behalf. Never found his body, see. He _could _still be out there I suppose, but I won't fill you with false hope about that… But, I never got to tell him I was pregnant with you…"

She took an audible breath.

" … Always hated that. Thought maybe if I did he would have been more careful or summat."

Though she couldn't see her face, the croaking in Tracey's voice let her know this was all a similar revelation to her.

"Who was he? What was he like?"

"Well… Gordon-Bennet, Trace… Good question. See, I was always worried about you endin' up in Slytherin, for Daffy it made sense - Benedict's bloody genes could make it through anything - but I was surprised with you… you couldn't be less like him if you tried. You always took after me... Except for your daft hair, that's on him."

Their mother then offered a cold laugh.

"He was a textbook Slytherin, to tell you. Could be a bit sleazy - caught him with another chick once - but god, I was head over heels for him. Absolutely. He always brought out the best in me. After he disappeared, if I'm honest… Benedict was a rebound. I was just scared to raise a kid on my own and he had been one of his good mates - just seemed natural."

At this point, they both became inaudible to her, in which Daphne could only presume one was whispering to the other.

She took a step back, going over the information she'd just learned.

That should have come as a bombshell to her - that her entire existence was just a side effect of her mother wanting comfort - but she was long past her families' drama. She was more intrigued to be hearing of Tracey's father, who, outside of the fact he was a Death Eater, was a figure their mother long shrouded in mystery. If their mother was actually aware of his identity and keeping it from them, that was all news to her. Daphne-Estelle Greengrass was often stopped achieving the fullest pure-blood designation because she was born out of wed-lock, but Tracey Davis had held the title of bastard child for years.

Morally, she was unsure if she wanted to hear anymore. She had already listened in on a very personal and private conversation as it was, that could be an excuse as an accident, but if she continued, then it was deliberate eavesdropping. As their voices got louder again however, Daphne quickly forgot her moral ambiguity and leaned back.

"Yeah, Daphne knows him. I've seen him with that Tonks bird around the castle. Why?"

"What you have to understand about him is - if I'd have known he was innocent… Well, as you know, I was a bit of a black sheep in my school days. Even back then Slytherins and Gryffindors din't much get on. All of my friends were in Slytherin... always said they put me in the wrong house. _Then_ they all turned into murderin' psychopaths and to kill me and I thought, yanno, maybe being in Gryffindor wasn't so bad after all. If I knew how it was all going to end up, I'd have picked better friends, let me tell you. Some bridges just can't be rebuilt…"

Their mother stopped abruptly and Daphne thought for one terrifying second that she had somehow been caught listening. She took a panicked glance around the Hospital Wing and saw no one but a scattering of bed-bound patients, who to them, she would simply look like she was waiting for her turn to visit.

"Bugger!" their mother cursed, with a certain cracking in her voice that let Daphne know she'd just succumbed to a flood of tears.

There was a noise of shuffling fabrics, which was she guessed was Tracey embracing her. Daphne felt awkward on her feet, for more than a few reasons. A drawn out period passed where the only sounds were their mothers crying sobs, which drew the eyes of a few to the direction of their bed.

"You alright?"

She was only just able to hear that, and had to listen very hard to distinguish what was being said.

"Yes, yes, just… oh _christ…_"

"So…"

Tracey sounded unsure.

"... Sirius Black knew my dad, then?"

"Well - in a manner of speakin', yeah. I thought so, but then…"

She stopped - Daphne didn't know why.

She leaned in as much as she could get away with, pressing her ear against the seam in the curtains.

"Is there somethin' you're not tellin' me?"

"No! No! I just… oh, god…"

A loud noise emanated from their cubicle that sounded somewhere between a sob and a growl.

"... Daphne rocks up at ours in the middle of the night lookin' like hell, then not a few months later I get an owl sayin' they've nearly bloody poisoned you! I'm second guessin' every choice I ever made… I don't know who I can trust anymore..."

"There's some nasty stuff going on, mum. It's nothin' we can't handle, though. You can trust _us_. And our ability to handle ourselves. Yeah?"

The overwhelming urge to part the curtains and join in on their conversation, to reassure their mother she was here and fine and was finally on the right path, was becoming too much. She pulled abruptly away. Finally, she had heard enough. She either left now or joined them and for some reason, it didn't feel it her place to intrude. After hearing that she didn't feel her presence, after all she'd done, would be appreciated.

Not to mention, she still didn't feel she could look her mother in the eye. Soon, definitely, but not yet.

She left the scroll of Tracey's homework on the bedside table and left the Hospital wing alone.

* * *

The rest of the week came and went, but lessons were not Daphne's priority. Her anger at Draco set her on the right course, but overhearing Tracey and their mother and their exchanges of raw emotion had finally been enough. She had made this decision months ago and it was finally time... She had been putting it off, despite trying to convince herself otherwise. But now she was finally ready.

On Friday, she went about her schedule as normal as possible. More lessons passed of her and Dominique ignoring each other, and not a word was said between her and any of her other housemates. She didn't get to see Harry today - really, she could have done with it. That goofy smile could fill her with the confidence she needed. By the time she came out of her last lesson, her head was a rush of emotions. She needed a sit down, a long and encouraging chat with Harry, then probably some Pepperup Potion, and would then feel as confident about tonight as she had when planning it. But events were in motion that could not be undone now. What was done was done, and what she was doing was right.

Tea in the Great Hall ended and she joined the large group of Slytherins heading to the dungeons. It was easy to get lost and be undetectable in the large crowd. Normally she cut through with gusto, but this time she was slow and unnoticed. She took her time and when she arrived at the common room it was already full. Instead of crossing to her own dormitory however, she turned into one a few doors up from her own.

She was becoming quite the hypocrite, as she would also scold Tracey for entering someone else's dorm without permission. The room was it's usual mess with robes, shirts and sweet wrappers coating the floor and, rather tellingly, a pair of lace knickers dangling off a corner of her four poster bed.

"Tabitha, move. Good girl."

Daphne ushered the large white cat off what it was she had been looking for. Tracey's Siberian Arrow broomstick.

Tucking the broomstick under her arm, she locked Tracey's dorm behind her and retreated to her own. Normally she would spend the rest of the night revising here, but tonight her books and parchment lay untouched in her drawer. She rested the broom by her bed and got changed. She picked the most discreet clothes she could manage, then hid them all under a long hooded robe. It was the same one she had worn her evening out as a Death Eater, making its use tonight rather appropriate.

Now she just needed to wait.

Night time beckoned closer, and the nerves were speeding up and beginning to nip at her heels. Hours passed as she lay in wait, but it wasn't time enough. Despite trying to convince herself otherwise, she was nervous. Truth be told, she hadn't needed to wait until Friday, she could have done this any day earlier. She'd done it tonight because… she was trying to put it off again. Staring at the ceiling of her four poster bed, she thought of Tracey lying alone in the hospital wing. Then she thought of Harry, the legacy he didn't ask for and the fact he was probably serving detention right now for never ceasing to do the right thing, even when the universe had so consistently shit on him. She thought of Astoria and her mother. What would they do if something were to happen to her?

_"Daffy, whatever's goin' on with you…" she leaned in, and a very serious tone said, "I'm askin' you, genuinely, as your blood, talk to me. __Just tell me you're safe? Answer that - answer honestly - and I'll leave it."_

_"DAPHNE IS ONLY HERE BECAUSE I CONVINCED HER TO BE, IF YOU WANT TO ARREST HER THEN YOU HAVE TO ARREST ME TOO!"_

_"It's as easy as you make it, Daphne Greengrass."_

Slowly, it was enough. That draining, sickly feeling in the bottom of her stomach was replaced by a hard determination. The fear and guilt drained out of her. It was finally time.

Tucking the broomstick under her arm, she went through to the common room. It was sparsely populated but none other than Blaise, who gave her a peculiar look, seemed to see her. Though then again, after the state she left Pansy in after their duel a few weeks after that, most of them probably tried deliberately not to see her.

There was a light on in Professor Hagrid's, but the Hogwarts grounds were otherwise silent. The night air was still, though thick with the scent of damp earth. She walked, her shoes squelching in the mud, until she was a good distance away from the castle.

Wobbling, she mounted the broom and kicked off hard from the ground. Her grip on the broom tightened exponentially as the the ground began to sink away. As the broom rose further and further into the air, she was very glad she hadn't had breakfast. She was over the moon when hearing flying lessons were option post-second year. No matter how many times she tried, no matter how many times her father pushed her towards it, she felt irredeemably unnatural on a broomstick. She suddenly had an all new-found respect for Harry and Tracey's Qudditch skills.

Then she made the mistake of looking down and found herself to be hovering a good fifty feet above the black lake

"_Yog-Sothoth…"_ she swore to herself.

Her eyes watered in the chill she set off, moving slowly away from the castle and deeper into the grounds. It was so dark she could see nothing below but the tiny pinpricks of light that were Professor Hagrid's hut.

_"I pretend I'm the best because I know that I'm the worst... and now it's finally caught up to me. I've done nothing but hurt people, I'm the opposite of how I want to be and... a-and I don't know how I let myself drop this low!"_

It wasn't long before she started to shiver, and her hands grew numb on the Arrows handle. She wished she had the good sense to put on a coat - considering how much she nagged Astoria for that, one would have been mistaken for thinking she could take her own advice as well.

_"Harry made me see who I really was…" her words were a contrasting calm, "... he opened my eyes to the world and as such, I developed a hyperfixation on him as a representation of my freedom. We started originally as a purely academic-based but developed interest in each other over time... It was the happiest period of my life, romantic-or-otherwise - as brief as it has been. Now my only intentions are to provide him with the same freedom and sense of being that he provided me with, as well as protect him from those that may harm him."_

She altered her course every now and then whenever she figured out what her bearings were. She needed to get herself nice and lost, all while maintaining a general awareness of the direction she was heading. She kept having to screw up her eyes against the icy rush of wind that was starting up. Her ears were beginning to ache as well. She could only remember being this cold only once before, the night she had taken her role as a Death Eater and hiked across hillside in the dead of night. That whole evening stuck in her memory as the most unpleasant experience her entire life, but if she wasn't able to get off this broom soon, it was about to have a competitor.

Slowly, she started over the forbidden forest. She wondered how long she had been flying; it felt like an hour already at least. The trees below her were so thick she couldn't see the ground. She flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees looking for the right area. Eventually she came across a small gap in the trees. It had to be the spot. She landed noiselessly in the small clearing. Shivering, she dismounted, pulled her wand from her sleeve and lit the area up.

"Wotcher, Princess."

Her wand tip flared, illuminating the scene. She blinked. A trio stood before her. Professor Lupin, looking tired and ill; Sirius, who was looking at her like she was the biggest present under the tree on Christmas morning, and Tonks, who for once, didn't look ready for a fight. She straightened up as the three of them approached her. She hadn't been expecting company so soon - she'd specifically set off early to give herself time to psych up.

"Were you followed?" Professor Lupin asked, looking cautiously back up at the castle behind her.

"No. I flew around the grounds, nobody could have followed me," she said, lifting the broom for them to see.

"Good girl. Now, lower yer hood. An' wand," a new voice said.

Her heart thumped suddenly. She knew that voice, and made the careful decision not to lower her wand. She turned to see Professor Mad-Eye Moody appearing from the dark, squinting suspiciously back at her through his mismatched eyes.

"It's alright, Daffy. He's the real one. He's with us," Sirius said, reassuringly.

She lowered her hood, but did not relax the grip of her wand, nor move at all. She had reason to be suspicious; two years ago her class spent nine months in what they thought was the company of Mad-Eye Moody, only to find out he was a Death Eater imposter. This was probably the real Moody, she knew, but when he looked and sounded identical to the last one, that knowledge did not bring much reassurance, especially meeting him in the dark forbidden forest.

"Well? What do yer 'ave to say for yourself?" he barked at her.

A foot away from him, a tall dark wizard in unusual robes also made himself known. It took a second, but she was able to recognise him as Kingsley Shacklebolt, the head of the Auror office. She had seen him in pictures with her father, who was head of the Depart of Magical Artefacts.

Evidently, the fact the five of them were now blocking her exits was not a coincidence. Despite being at a disadvantage, she held her head high and confident.

"I have…" her voice cracked and she started again, after silently cursing herself, "... I have information that will be valuable to the Auror Office and the Order of the Phoenix."

* * *

They felt like another person's words. She could hardly believe this was real. Last year she was jumping through hoops and burning bridges left, right and centre to keep as far away from the war as she could. That felt like yesterday, now suddenly she was here with no going back now.

Professor Lupin brought himself closer to her.

"Daphne, this won't be an anonymous tip, you understand? There's no going back from here."

She glared hard at him, feeling very conscious of the fact she was still shaking from that broom ride.

"I've lost enough. You're doing your part to protect me... This is me, doing mine."

The Professor held her gaze. Behind him, she saw Sirius give her a nod. She took a shallow, steadying breath and shut her eyes.

"The Death Eaters involved in the Spear of Longinus heist on November Nineteenth were… Benedict Greengrass and Peter Pettigrew, who arranged the heist but did not accompany us there. The scout party was myself and the Carrow twins, known Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban last year. I saw them myself."

She opened her eyes to see Professor Moody looking unimpressed.

"That it?"

She chewed the inside of her lip impatiently. She had a fleeting vision of Merula staying behind to defend her, while the Carrows abandoned them. And then of her having to abandon Merula in that Muggle hospital.

No. It was all or nothing. It was as easy as she made it, as her mother said.

"... And Merula Snyde," she said eventually. "She was who I was partnered with."

Again, she found herself struggling to break eye-contact with Professor Moody. His magical eye occasion flickered in different directions, watching the surrounding area.

"We come all the way out 'ere for this? That's nothin' we couldn't 'ave taken educated guesses on ourselves! The only name there worth anythin' is yer father, and it's all well and dandy tellin' us, but it don't mean diddly without proof!" then he growled at the others, "... Told ya! Ah knew she wasn't 'owt to be trusted!"

Professor Lupin turned suddenly, as though someone had struck him across the face.

"Not true, Mad-Eye! This could still help get the blame away from the werew-"

"I _have _proof."

Letting Tracey's broom drop to the forest floor, she pulled a package out of her robes. Peeling open a corner of it, she revealed a dozen or so sealed, hand-written letters.

"Written to me, signed by my father. In these you'll find him make frequent mention to Death Eater activities, as well as confirming the names I mentioned. His signature is at the bottom of every one of them... which I'm sure Mr Shacklebolt will be able to compare to his paperwork at the ministry."

She inclined her head awkwardly to each of the circle, wishing they would look at something other than her, but using the attention to her full advantage. Shacklebolt gave her an impressed smile. Sirius moved to seal the space between Professor Moody and Professor Lupin, nodding with vigour.

"That could work! Mad-Eye, _could _that work?"

The ex-Professor kept up the long and hard stare he was giving her, in which both his magical and normal eyes bore into her very soul, then, unblinking, he answered.

"Aye. That it can."

Sirius and Professor Lupin gave huge sighs of relief. She wanted to feel their jubilation, but there was something stopping her. Sirius moved forward.

"Thank you, Daphne. You have no idea what this will mean for u-"

She flinched back suddenly, escaping the hand which had been coming in for a hug.

"There's more," she said quickly. "When I took the Dark Mark, Draco Malfoy did as well. He's a Death Eater just as much as I am. He was given a mission by The Dark Lord, as I was, but I don't know anything more definite than that. I have reason to _believe_, however... his task involves assassination. Myself, Harry Potter, Tracey Davis, Ronald Weasley and Katie Bell have already fallen victim, though unsuccessful."

Sirius chuckled merrily, as though he hadn't heard this, and tried again to pat her shoulder.

"You can stop talking all official-like now. We got what we need."

"When the Dark Lord gave us his tasks," she continued, "he made it clear we were not to tell anyone, and the only one who we could talk to about it was Professor Snape. He knows both of our mission briefs."

Sirius's smile dropped at this, but Tonks was the first to speak.

"Snape never said anything about that."

"Leave it with us Daphne. Thank you, again."

"What will you do with this information?"

Professor Moody waddled forward.

"Make some arrests, probably. We got the element of surprise, now. No good with the Carrows or Pettigrew, they're already wanted, but if the evidence against ol' Benny is as good as ya say, ah feel pretty confident sayin' he could be in Azkaban by this time tomorrow. 'Im, well as anyone else he incriminates in the process. There's no way even their scum on the inside could protect 'em from the likes of these."

The group all looked pleased with this proclamation, but Daphne wasn't letting the relief sweep her system just yet. Sirius stepped forward again, harder this time.

"Daphne, a quick word."

He took her by the arm and led her deeper into the tree line. As they moved, she glanced back and saw Tonks, Kinsley, Professors Moody and Lupin gathering into a circle. He brought them to a stop and faced her.

"Look - though I expect Dumbledore has already offered you a place to stay in the castle, I just wanted you to know that when terms over, you have a home with me and Harry in Grimmauld Place. Should you want it, that is. I know you're probably used to a lot more than that run-down old shack…"

She blinked.

"Me? Move in... with Harry?"

He gave a loose gesture.

"Well… the Order of the Phoenix, specifically."

She stared back at him, unable to find an emotion to suit.

"You're inviting me to join?"

"Well, get your NEWTs out of the way before we go that far, then maybe."

There was a vague voice in the back of her head calling out to her to bring up the conversation she had overheard in the Hospital Wing. Sirius knew their mother _and _Tracey's father? There had to be an important conversation there to be had. She tried to bring this up, but through her wand-light, she could see him looking critical all of a sudden. His face had transformed into something a lot more serious, and she now saw the happy-go-lucky attitude he had earlier had been a facade. He took a glance at the others in the clearing before he began.

"Listen, the others wouldn't want me telling you this. They're trying very hard to keep order, but there's not a lot of _that_ going around these days, let me tell you. They're turning a blind eye to it, but it's important you know. It's important you and Harry are aware, so you can prepare yourselves."

His eyes found their way to the scar on Daphne's eyebrow. She resisted the urge to conveniently scratch her face and hide it.

"Something is wrong…" he continued. "Everyone can feel it. Nobody can explain it, but we've all sensed it. We're winning against You-Know-Who, more and more Death Eaters are being found out by the day and we're on the cusp of discovering his hiding place but… but…"

"Padfoot! We're leaving!" Professor Moody barked from the clearing.

Sirius gave a hard sigh - his frustration obvious.

"Dark times we're heading for, Daphne. Dark times. You and Harry need to stick together and _trust each other_ with what's to come."

She blinked again. She understood his urgency and digression, but for as ominous as daunting as his words were, he hadn't actually told her anything yet.

"_What_ is to come?"

"We don't know. Not yet."

"_Padfoot!"_

"Think about it. Not a word, now. Act happy."

He scooped her under his shoulder and began guiding them back to the clearing. She tried to fake a smile, but the news of what she'd just heard was too disturbingly overpowering.

"See you later, Daffy!" he said in an all-around brighter tone, which she could now recognise as fake.

It had the same air about it as the way Tracey spoke, that day by the lake-side. She could now see it for the forced positivism it was and felt her guilt worsen.

"Your information tonight will be very useful. Thank you, Daphne," said Kingsley, giving her a small bow.

Tonks mounted her broom and nodded.

"See you around, Princess."

It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but despite her sarcastic tone, Daphne was sure she actually saw a smile under that head of pink hair. A hard impact in her back knocked the thought from her mind.

"Yer did good today, Greengrass," Professor Moody waddled past her. 'Make a soldier out of ya yet!"

Her head a rush with what Sirius had said, she watched the group of Aurors disappear one by one into the darkness of the forest. She brought Tracey's Arrow off the forest floor and mounted it, but didn't kick off. As the others vanished, she remained there, distracted by how startling still the forest seemed now.

She held tight onto the words Professor Moody had said. An empowering rush was sweeping her being.

She did good today.

The leap she had been dreading was now leapt, and she was on the other side. Lady Daphne-Estelle of House Greengrass was a traitor to her family and the Death Eaters, and now an undercover member of the Order of the Phoenix. That was a lot to take in, but the truly strange and daunting thing about it was - she didn't feel the slightest bit bad about it. Maybe a year ago, Merlin's Beard, a _month_ ago, and that would have been different. But now she had grown more powerful than she ever dreamed. If she could detach so absolutely and completely from her family, and without feeling bad about it... where did that leave her new limits?

She had none. She could do whatever it takes now. Anything so that her and Harry would get the future they deserved. The future _she_ deserved.

Revelations were indeed underway. The change that was promised; from glory to glory. Authority was power, influence was responsibility and her redemption would come through betrayal. The terror of a wrong decision - that did not matter anymore - because she had made the right one.

* * *

_A/N Daphne may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that she is one. She's heading down a rabbit hole - but if it's for the right cause, who draws the line?_


	34. Side of the Angels

_A/N Missed Friday upload date, can only apologise! Longest chapter yet, hope that makes up for it. Also I'm drunk when uploading this._

* * *

"Utterly stupid..." Ginny said in a hollow voice. "No Seeker _or _Beater for the last match of the year... I cannot _believe _we're going to lose to Slytherin..."

These were the first words spoken after he had delivered the grave news, ten minutes ago. He'd just finished his meeting with Professor McGonagall where she had informed him that because of his duel with Malfoy, he was suspended from the next Quidditch match. No such news had reached his ears if the same had happened to Malfoy, but he very much doubted it. Ron also had been temporarily taken from the team on the basis of his accident, despite the match still being a way off and him already almost being back to normal.

Harry was thinking furiously. Everywhere he looked he saw naught but disconsolate and angry faces. The team around the Gryffindor table was composed of himself and Ginny, Katie Bell and their new chaser, Nadia Khanna. It was everyone aside from their Beaters, Demelza Robins and Dean Thomas, of whom Harry was not looking forward to having to repeat the bad news to, and Ron, who was still in the hospital wing. Hermione also lingered on for moral support.

For a second, he hesitated to say anything more. Baring Ginny, he typically liked his professional life separate from his Quidditch, so confidining in the girls before him did not come with a load of confidence. But on the second examination, he was decided. He was simply unable to keep his thoughts to himself; he had to give justification to his actions. It was a life-and-death matter and he would risk the worry of being laughed at.

"Malfoy nearly killed Ron, I couldn't _not _do anything…"

Hermione looked at him cautiously

"Harry…"

But his proclamation had already drawn the attention of Katie and Nadia.

"_He_ poisoned them?" Katie asked.

The news about what happened to Ron and Tracey had broken to the rest of the school and, though details were vague, it was the general consensus that it had been a targeted attack against the two of them.

"Why hasn't he been taken to Azkaban?" asked Nadia, also interested.

Harry felt suddenly on the spot about how to respond. His mind failed him on how to update two girls, both of which had stayed relatively away from his usual drama, on over a year's worth of context. Hermione meanwhile, looked like she was trying to inch away from him out of embarrassment.

"It's... " he said slowly," … well, we know _someone _has to have done it, and he has the most reason…"

"So he's in Auror custody, then?" Katie asked.

Harry chewed his lip, knowing what was next.

"No… he isn't."

For a second, he worried how they would react. He wasn't used to having his opinion challenged and made the fool of in front of the team. Would they trust his judgement as captain, or roll their eyes and call him paranoid? When they did decide on their emotions, they seemed split down the middle. Nadia leaned in, looking interested, while Katie scrunched up her face like she had misheard him. As Nadia opened her mouth, looking like she was about to say something important, he cut her off.

"Don't ask me why. I don't know."

Finally, it seemed Hermione could not hold her tongue any longer.

"Because they don't have enough evidence Malfoy was behind it," she interjected. "And frankly, any evidence there _could _have been will be covered up by now."

Though he shot her a warning glance, she carried on.

"I'm not saying it wasn't him, Harry! I'm saying you can't just go charging around bullheaded like that! What good has it actually gotten you? There's a right and wrong way to deal with this kind of thing and publicly accusing people and attacking them in the corridor is _not _the way to do it! Neither is dragging other people into it!"

Although angry, he wished he could disagree. Malfoy was still free to roam around and the only real repercussions were felt by his teammates, who would now suffer defeat at the hands of Slytherin.

"You sound like Sirius," he scolded her.

"Then Sirius is right."

A glare of pure hatred bubbled from somewhere inside him. Why was his judgement suddenly questioned now? Had he not proven himself over the years? Not even a year ago, he had similar suspicions about Daphne that had been proven right, had he not earned himself a little good faith?

He was willing to accept that he had acted rash and without broader judgment, but if others were on his side, his actions wouldn't have been necessary in the first place. He did what he did because nobody else was doing anything. Hermione and Sirius could _say _they believed him as much as they wanted, but believing him was only worth so much when there was important action needing to be taken. And when the lives of people he cared about were on the line, he refused to sit down and wait for the worst to happen.

Irritated, and feeling more than a little spiteful, he locked eyes with Katie across the table.

"_... and_ I bet he was the one behind your curse."

She did not appreciate him bringing this up. In fact, there had been a general consensus among the team never to so much as acknowledge the whole ordeal had happened, as Katie seemed ashamed with herself over it. Both Hermione and Nadia shot him furious glares of warning, but he pushed quickly through them.

Nadia rose her fork threateningly at him.

"Mate, leave it out."

"We saw him in Borgin and Burkes at the start of the year - that's the same place that necklace was from!" he carried on. "You and Ron both have me in common, we all know he's had it out for me for years! He tried getting you to give me the cursed necklace, and he tried poisoning me!"

Hermione chimed in a second later with a cry of frustration.

"The poison was not meant for you! It was meant for Slughorn, Harry!"

It was only his want not to cause a scene that stopped him shouting back. Her shrill cry had drawn the attention of a few Gryffindor members of the table. Even Ginny, who had all but ascended to the ethereal realm way, looked suddenly back in the room.

Seeing him silenced, Hermione wound back in for another go.

"Look - yes! We can sit here and get ourselves all worked by continuing to speculate and then do something utterly stupid again, or we can try and focus on the problem at hand!"

He frowned at her.

"Which is?"

"We should…"

She gave a sigh so hard and so harsh that it sounded like someone had struck her in the back with a knife.

" ...figure out... what the plan is for the Quidditch team…"

He deadpanned at her.

"Are you serious?"

She gave him a pained look and he understood.

Though it justified his anger more not to notice it, somewhere along the line he could sense she was on his side. The way she said it made it obvious. She agreed with him, just not the approach he was taking. She now knew Malfoy was a problem as much as he did, but for the sake of all of them, was trying to force calmness. He acknowledged that, but in his current mindset, didn't much appreciate it.

Reluctantly, and pulling profound effort out of god knows where, he gave up.

"Bloody wonderful. Fantastic. Amazing."

The mood on the table was truly abysmal. Any chance of salvation was gone the second he had opened his mouth. Minutes past and reluctantly, everyone decided to start on breakfast. Harry didn't feel like eating anything. He felt that, perhaps if it did, it would immediately faze through him and drop to the floor.

It was the source of abundant annoyance to him that, in such a short time, everything had gone so irreparably wrong in his world. And though he had Hermione and Sirius talking good sense to him in one ear, the other one couldn't hear anyone else responsible for it than Draco Malfoy. He felt empty, cold and useless. No matter what he did, any action by him resulted in making things worse. He couldn't have just put his faith in Sirius and Tonks, could he? It wasn't enough he'd dragged Daphne into this dangerous world - he had to go beyond that and make other innocents suffer for his, as Hermione put it, bullheadedness.

The mood surrounding them wasn't McGonagall or Malfoy's fault - it was his.

"Ginny, couldn't you always play seeker?"

Hermione asked this after everyone had long since zoned out. It took Ginny a long time to realise the question was directed at her, and when that finally occurred, she frowned something ugly.

"No, really!"

She was speaking in that horrifically forced voice Harry had become so well accustomed to in their latter years of Hogwarts.

"I've seen you in practise and you're really good at it! You're not Harry, obviously - no offence - but you're the best other option!"

Ginny, who looked surprised, and more than a little intimidated by the prospect, shook her head.

"If I'm Seeker, who will be Chaser?"

The question wasn't to her, but to the group as a whole. That meant she wasn't saying no to filling in for him, Harry noticed. He leaned in, interested. Katie was the one to answer and, like Hermione, she looked uncomfortable, but positive.

"We have reserve Chasers... But no reserve Seekers. It _could _work."

He had known Ginny to be a no-nonsense kind of girl, and especially so when it came to Qudditch. Which made her response as she saw him, Katie, Nadia and Hermione all nodding enthusiastically back at her, all that more surprising.

"Right. First match where I'm Seeker, and it's only for the bloody Quidditch Cup! Even Better!"

She hissed as she spoke and abandoning her breakfast, she stood up and marched away from them. Nadia sagged against the dining table, but Hermione rounded on her, keeping up her force enthusiasm.

"She didn't say no, she's just nervous, is all! You know how good she is! And at least this way you'll still qualify!"

The mood, though still sour, suddenly had a glimmer of hope. That did seem to be the universal agreement. At least this way, even if the last minute rearranging of the team did still result in a humiliating failure, they at least stood a fighting chance. So long as they still qualified for the match, that would be enough.

That should have done a lot for improving Harry's mood, but his mind wasn't with Qudditch anymore. As Ginny marched away, he saw another familiar face. The alarming thing was, it was making no deviations or delay, and was heading straight for him.

Oblivious to the quite hardened glare he was giving her, Daphne came to a stop by the Gryffindor table.

"We need to talk."

He could do little other than blink back.

That was usually the lead-in line to a breakup, he knew, or the prelude to a big argument. And the aura she brought with her was threatening. She spoke so robotically, it was as if unaware of the dozens of eyes being drawn their way - apparently, no one was in a hurry to forget she had betrayed Dumbledore's Army to Umbridge, or how Harry himself had turned up with a broken nose after talking to her last term. Katie and Nadia sized themselves up, looking not unlike female lions protecting their cubs.

"Is this the _place_?" he asked incredulously.

Daphne took a slow look over the rest of the table, who were all staring in amazement at her. With a flick of her hair she gestured out of the Great Hall, signalling him to leave with her. Nadia closed in beside him.

"Anything you wanna say to Harry, you can say in front of us."

Daphne wheeled back around, her eyes snapping from head to head to see who had spoken out.

"I am a Prefect and I can talk to whoever I want!"

He was on his feet in a flash. He grabbed her lower back and pulled her quite suddenly away from the table. He shouted back to them, not stopping to gauge any reactions.

"You guys figure something out, tell me about it! See you at practise!"

Thankfully, Daphne carried on down the aisle without resistance. He leaned in to her, his smile fading.

"_The bloody hell are you playing at?"_

She gave a hollow scoff.

"_Let them gawk. Get over it. I certainly am."_

Up ahead, there was a chorus of girlish laughter and shrieks from the Slytherin table. He realised his hand was still on her lower back and dropped it abruptly. The ruckus had caught Daphne's attention too and she turned towards them.

Harry didn't know what was about to happen, but he was sure it was going to be embarrassing for him.

Though most fell silent, she came to an abrupt halt in front of a pair of still-sniggering Slytherin girls. He didn't recognise most of the group and he didn't see anything of Pansy or Millicent, which made him think this was a group of younger students. Though on second glance, he was able to vaguely recognised the giggling girls as the same ones that catcalled Daphne as they were studying together last year

"_What_ is funny?"

The girls finally stopped jeering, but kept their cat-like grins.

"Ooooh, nothing, babe!" one of them cooed.

She gave them a long, hard stare, which only seemed to broaden their smiles.

"Ten points from Slytherin."

The two let out a cry of disbelief. She turned and continued her march out of the Great Hall. Harry and the girls were left staring at each other, flabbergasted.

"_Daphne!"_

He took off in a light jog to catch up with her, further dragging even more looks their way. By the time they had left the Great Hall together, he wouldn't be surprised if every one of its occupants had seen them and, knowing Hogwarts, was currently theorising about what new drama was going on between them. In other words, a complete and total reversal of everything they had been working towards.

But for whatever reason, Daphne did not seem bothered by this. It made it so that, when she dragged him to the same corner of the entrance hall they had met in before their date, he fell deathly silent. He understood the concept of urgency, and so wanted desperately to hear what was so important she would trade everything they had worked towards in exchange for it. And, he wanted to be sure of her reasoning _before _shouting at her.

"Have you gotten that memory from Professor Slughorn yet?"

Those words stopped him in his tracks. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. The urgency of the situation made him think someone had died, or there had been a major development with her Death Eater status. And also, correct him if he was wrong, but that was the first time he'd heard her call him _Professor _Slughorn. He didn't know why this was, until remembering that she had gotten into the habit of referring to him by his first name only. Had the experience the other night affected the way she felt towards him, perhaps?

"No, I haven't..." he said finally.

"What is your plan?"

He felt very out of depth. The vigour she spoke with, it was obvious they were not on the same page about something. He was afraid something had happened he had missed out on and raked his memory of recent events for something that could have sparked this sudden interest.

"What's... going on... ?"

When her demeanour didn't change, he knew all too well to reformulate that answer into something she wanted or he'd regret it.

"No, I haven't. Not exactly," he started again. "I've been waiting for the right time to bring it up, last time I did, see, he didn't really respond well…"

For a second, she looked to be thinking hard about something. Then, nodded abruptly.

"This evening are you doing anything?"

He attempted to gesture vaguely back to the Great Hall.

"I need to help the team, the Quidditch cup is soon and we're against Slytherin, they won't let me pla-"

"Cancel it. We'll get the memory off Professor Slughorn together."

His mouth dropped limply open.

"I can't just cancel, Ginny is playing replacement Seeker and-"

"Meet back here during tea. Bring that invisibility cloak of yours, as a precaution."

Harry stared at her, lost for words.

She wasn't asking him this - she was _telling _him.

Where had this sudden change of mood come from? She wasn't usually this… this… Ice Queeny. Not with him anymore, at least. This was more akin to the Daphne he'd worked with in Potions at the start of last year than anything he'd come to expect recently.

Something was going on, that much was apparent, but he didn't feel a corner of the entrance hall was the correct place to discuss it. So, reluctantly, he agreed wholly to her conditions.

"Good. We'll go tonight and… see what happens."

"See what happens?" he repeated.

She nodded, looking fully aware she wasn't giving him the answer he wanted.

"I have ideas."

* * *

A half day meant only one lesson that afternoon. That was normally a relief, but throughout Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lecture, Harry's mind was deeply clouded by Daphne's behaviour.

If he had approached her like that at the Slytherin table, he'd never hear the end of it. And where had this sudden interest in the mission Dumbledore had set him come from? She seemed more enthusiastic to get it done than he ever had. It was enough to take his mind - for the time being, anyway - completely away from Draco Malfoy. And made a much more apt replacement to worry about Qudditch than did, to say the least.

Her strange development aside, the more he thought of it, the more positive he grew. Pursuing Slughorn was a duty he'd been neglecting in light of other things for a while, so it filled him with reassurance to be back on track - even if it was strange circumstances that led him there. He was still none the wiser about _how _he was going to get it, but he trusted in Daphne's social engineering ability and was confident that, between the two of them, tonight would be the night.

When time for tea came, he found himself avoiding entering the Great Hall. His intrigue about tonight had been that strong, he didn't want to do anything else other than meet her right away. The entrance hall was now dark, light only by torchlight and the overpowering sound of laughter and the sweet scent of whatever the House Elves had prepared was making him reconsider his judgement of arriving early.

"Oi, Harry!"

He'd wound up in a world of his own and was shocked to see Hermione and Ron, who was now out of the hospital wing, before him.

"Ron!"

The two cheered and crashed into one another in a manly embrace. Of course, they had seen each other in the Hospital Wing, but the principle of him finally being released demanded a big deal be made of it.

Ron's accidental breakup with Lavender had been conveniently absent from conversations they had while he was in the Hospital Wing. With the new context, he had watched them both a little more closely during these visits, but they did not seem any different with each other, except maybe being a little politer than usual. Harry supposed he would have to wait for him to be released to see if it would have any impact on their lives - and exactly that was what happened.

Their embrace broken, Ron returned back to his place by Hermione, who then, as though hoping if she did it slowly enough then Harry wouldn't notice, she snaked her fingers through his.

But Harry did notice. And he grinned. It was obvious they fancied each other for a while - but that was seemingly to everyone but themselves. Ginny thought it was never going to happen, but he had an inkling that it would sooner or later.

Initially, he had been unsure how to feel about it. Though he and Cho were not necessarily on bad terms anymore, they never so much as looked at each other these days, never mind talking anymore. The thought had occurred to him, what if Ron and Hermione started going out together, then split up? Would their friendship survive it? He remembered the few weeks they hadn't been talking in the third year and how much he hadn't enjoyed trying to bridge the distance between them. And then, what if they didn't split up? What if they became like Bill and Fleur and it became excruciatingly embarrassing to be in their presence?

But those fears, now that he saw them in front of him, were naught.

Hermione had obviously tried to make their new status as subtle a reveal as possible, probably in hopes he wouldn't mention. But, feeling suddenly ecstatic and more than a little cheeky, he decided to do exactly that.

"You two seem to have worked things out."

His smug grin was met by her turning scarlet and Ron grinning ear to ear.

"You're… okay with it, aren't you?" she asked cautiously.

He could sense she was genuinely worried about what he would say or do. To remedy this, he gave them both the biggest, happiest grin he'd ever managed in his entire life.

"Absolutely."

Hermione gave a subtle, but very enthusiastic smile, then quickly regained her composure. She gestured to the Great Hall.

"Are you coming in?"

He wanted to, but decided good things came in small packages. He would let them have tonight absent of worry of the larger picture, as he and Daphne had attempted a week earlier.

"Meeting Daphne, actually," he smiled harder. "Wouldn't want to interrupt you two."

Ron nodded and led Hermione away, who was still blushing. She smiled appreciatively as they departed. Again, he had a sudden feeling that everything was going to work out. He didn't know how long passed of him smiling witlessly into the void, just that he jumped when he was next interrupted.

"Hope that smiles for me?"

Again his senses had again betrayed and he'd completely missed Daphne appearing from the dungeons, crossing the Entrance Hall and stopping in front of him.

"Oh! Nothing, just…"

But, his euphoria carried him the rest of the way and he decided to share his feelings of a world he liked to keep separate.

"Ron and Hermione are together."

Daphne considered this. An expression of consideration appeared on her face, as though concept of romance was unknown to her. Then, with a neutral smile, she nodded.

"Good for them. Are you ready?"

She had brushed past it a little quicker than he would have liked, but riding the positivity sweeping through his system, he agreed.

They departed to the dungeons together. The halls were empty for the most part, but even if they weren't, Daphne did not seem to have a single qualm about them being seen together. His curiosity reached it's breaking point, and as they started down the long staircase to the dungeons, he pulled her on it.

"What's going on?"

She gave him the briefest glance, done more for principal than anything else. When she answered, she avoided eye contact with him.

"We need to get a move on before Draco does. This is important. Now, if asking Professor Slughorn nicely doesn't work, what are you planning?"

Her transparency avoiding the subject was so un-subtle - he almost respected it. He gave a vague shrug.

"I've been thinking about it, if you'll hear my plan?" she asked.

"'Course…"

Though they were alone on the stone steps, her voice dropped dramatically.

"We go to his study and ask to be invited in, under the guise of wanting to clear the air over what happened. I imagine he'll jump at the chance to clear his name and get back in our good books. Once in, we'll share a few drinks and when he is nice and drunk with his guard down, you strike him with the confundus charm..."

"What!?"

"Well - you're better at offensive spells than I am," she brushed passed, as though she hadn't just casually recommended attacking a teacher. "Then, after we extract what we need from his memory, I'll perform the Obliviate charm so he forgets everything we-"

Choking, and feeling as though Hermione had suddenly possessed him, he stopped her.

"Daphne, stop. We're not _attacking _anyone."

She went silent, looking at him as though he'd just said something quite insulting to her. He made to remedy this.

"It wouldn't work, anyway. Dumbledore was specific, he needs to transfer the memory _willingly_."

Annoyance took her face and she retreated into the highly concentrated state he'd often seen her do. He could practically see the gears turning importantly behind her eyes.

"Willingingly…" she mumbled to herself.

Then, she said something that shocked him so much, it turned his blood an icy cold.

"So…" she eased out, cautiously,"... the Imperius curse _wouldn't_ work, then?"

He slowed his pace, determined to have misheard her.

"Oh, please, do _not _look at me like that!"

He was caught off guard by the suddenly venomous glare being sent his way. She was looking at him as though _he _had been the one to just suggest using an unforgivable curse. He spluttered through his defences to say something.

"Like w-what?"

She was finally making eye contact - now he was the one trying to avoid it.

"Like you're better than me! Look - you wanted me on your side and here I am! I betrayed everything I was brought up on for this cause and I will do what _needs_ to be done for the greater good. Otherwise, all the stupid problems we've caused for ourselves have been for nothing."

"We're not bloody Death Eaters, though! We don't do that! You don't do that!"

He got the feeling that came out wrong, because she fixed him with an icy stare. Then the corners of her lips turned slightly, like she was trying to explain to a child that two plus two made four.

"Being _me _hasn't exactly done us any favours in the past. We are at war, Harry, it isn't meant to be nice. The only way stuff gets accomplished is by making the tough decisions. Every day we delay because we're too busy being _nice_ is a day that The Dark Lord is moving against us. Pieces can be put back together later, but salvation isn't an option for dead people. You and I know that all too well."

There was a violent, sickening churning in his gut. The elation he felt from Ron and Hermione's development was leaving him like he was a balloon with a puncture. She turned away from him, as if uncertain whether or not to continue or not.

"Victory is as easy as we make it."

Stunned by the verbal assault, he could do nothing but remain quiet in its wake. It was the same all-or-nothing attitude she had about revision and assignments, but hearing her apply it to people, as though they were merely obstacles they needed to overcome… For the first time, he could see the woman before him as a Death Eater. There were a thousand things he felt he should be saying in response, but he was too mixed up to say any of it.

Maybe it was that he'd gotten so used to the opposite - for the longest time her only real involvement with him and the Order was trying to keep her safe - that actually seeing her on their side and ready to apply herself to the fight… Was it his fault for setting false expectations, or had he again gotten caught up in the romanticism of them?

Having delivered her speech, she cleared her throat. Their conversation was clearly over. Neither of them said anything for a while, but carried on walking. He searched for something to say, something to break the air of conflict, but his words failed him.

"... and I wasn't saying we _should, _I was considering it as an option…" she followed up, "... and it doesn't seem to be a valid one…"

It seemed a small part of her recognised she had gone too far. She sounded tired, or frustrated, he couldn't tell which. Though he didn't know how he felt, whether he was angry or applauded, he could at least respect the attempt at fixing things.

"Let's just…" he forced out, "... go to him, and see what happens, yeah?"

"_See what happens?_" she repeated incredulously.

"Yes," he said forcefully.

Harry had kept an eye out to try specifically to try and spot Slughorn heading into the Great Hall, and had seen neither head nor tail of him. Which confused him, as when the two arrived in the cold dungeon corridor and knocked, they had no response.

Daphne looked far more troubled by this than she should have been.

"He could still be having tea?" he suggested.

She shook her head.

"I placed an alert charm over the dungeons. He hasn't left them since dinner."

He frowned.

"Bit overkill?"

"Shut up. I set an enchantment over the dungeons. If he left to go anywhere else in the castle I'd have known about it..."

He looked around uselessly, fearing another Daphne tantrum coming on.

"He could have used a different exit? Don't the dungeons also lead out to the boat house and the greenhouses?"

She seemed absolutely revolted by this suggestion.

"I mean - _yes_ \- but why in Merlin's name would he go out either of those exits?"

He didn't know what was going on tonight, but it was clear he wouldn't be able to decipher any of it with her behaving like this. He didn't know if this was just her in a foul mood, her time of the month, or if she was simply trying to prove a point to him.

And then, all at once, a solution came to him in a glorious stroke of inspiration.

"I've got an idea!"

"What is it?"

Before he knew it, he was sprinting back through the dungeons the way he came, sheer excitement stretched across his face.

"I need to go to Gryffindor Tower. Will you come with me?"

Daphne jogged to keep up with him. She didn't share his enthusiasm, but was listening intently to him.

"What for?"

"I need to get something."

* * *

Daphne felt an annoyed jolt in her gut as he returned down the staircase, smiling broadly. The warm glow that normally flared inside her at the sight of him was extinguished by an icy pit in her stomach. His whole attitude about tonight was inappropriate - it was as though he didn't understand how important the job they had on their hands were.

"Well?" she asked, sincerely hoping his apparent arrogance had cause behind it.

He extracted a tiny, gleaming bottle from inside his robes.

"This'll help us find him and get that memory."

Though she did not recognise it immediately, slowly, the memory of their first Potions lesson with Horace returned to her.

"Felix Felicis?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Imaginary images hovered on the edges of her imagination; vague and unformulated plans involving her being extricated from the Death Eaters free of punishment, Astoria's miraculous recovery from her blood curse and, most impossible, was her father embracing Harry as his son-in-law. The benefits she could gain from having a potion like that in her life - how hadn't she thought of it before?

"Well, here goes!"

He raised the little bottle and took all the liquid in one big gulp.

He did not do anything for a moment. Then, it looked like he was subject to an exhilarating rush sweeping through his system, not unlike he had just taken a shot of very pungent alcohol. He held himself more strongly, smiling, shining with confidence.

She stared blankly back at him.

"Why did you down the whole thing?" she asked, disparagingly, "I would have quite liked some too."

"I'll brew you some!"

Apparently the potion was having its effect already, because as she went to slap him for that, he quickly ducked out of her range. In fact, now that he was slightly further away and she was able to look at him properly… She suddenly wasn't as mad about his attitude. Had the potion also made him more good looking, as well?

Her heart did a little flutter as he reapproached her.

"Lets go to Hagrids!"

She did a double-take.

"I beg your pardon?"

He scooped her under his shoulder and began leading them towards the castles exit without second thought.

"Hagrid? Big bloke? Looks like he's covered in face in glue and headbutted a yeti?"

He gestured comedically to his jawline. She did not laugh.

"I know very well who he is, I would just like to know why you think it's appropriate we visit him now!?"

"Dunno."

"You '_dunno'!_?" she repeated.

"Dunno! Just got a good feeling about Hagrids!"

"We're meant to be finding Horace! _Professor _Horace! _Slughorn _\- UGH! - _Professor _Slughorn!"

Though she was not sure her annoyance had completely dissipated just yet; her thirst to get on with tonight's task stopped her fighting him.

In fact, her shoulder fitted quite neatly into the armpit of his robes. Having rarely the chance to venture anywhere together, this was not something they'd discovered before. Considering she'd spent the past five years at Hogwarts working out in her spare time, she was impressed he was able to make her feel so small. And comfortable, as well.

He caught her staring up at him. There was something very hypnotic about the goofy grin plastered across his face. Normally, it held her attention well, but now she was doing all in her power to resist kissing it. She eased slowly into him, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation. It was nice while it lasted, before hushed whispers caught her attention and she turned to see a pair of Hufflepuff girls pointing at them. All at once, her feelings of jubilation vanished. She wrestled her way out from under his arm, her cheeks flushed.

Though it was his idea they were to visit their Care of Magical Creatures Professor, as soon as they had ventured out into the dusky grounds, he took a rather abrupt turning towards the Herbology Greenhouses instead.

"Where are you going _now_?"

"Hagrids! I know a shortcut!"

But he was wrong - there was no shortcut this way. In fact, having attended Hogwarts for over five years, Daphne happened to know the greenhouses and the Forbidden Forest were in complete opposite directions of one another. But Harry seemed oblivious of this logic, and sprung forward merrily, a certain spring in his step that for reasons unknown, angered her beyond belief.

Now they were not physically joined, she found it difficult to keep up to his pace.

"Will you slow down!?" she barked after him.

At this point Harry had started humming so loudly, he probably hadn't heard her.

She swore under her breath. Was it Liquid Luck he had taken, or several shots of fire whiskey?

Up ahead, there was a ripple of a shadow in the steamy panes of the greenhouse. She blinked to make sure her eyes were not deceiving her - and confirmed that it was indeed, Professor Horace Slughorn before them. He was leaning through a glass pane, hunching over a venomous tentacula, who seemed very unhappy with him messing with it.

Unsure as to how exactly Harry could have known this, she turned to him, but he moved quickly past her slipping stealthily into the window with him.

"Hi, Professor!"

The Professor jumped so hard, his head banged against the glass pane above them. A loud clunk reverberated throughout the greenhouse.

"MERLIN'S BEARD!"

Harry's good mood was completely unfazed.

"Sorry, sir! I should've announced myself! Cleared my throat! Coughed! You probably feared I was Madam Sprout!"

"Well, yes, actually -"

He looked at him with a paranoid eye, then briefly noticed her presence as well. He cocked his head, studying the area suspiciously.

"Why… Why ever would you think that?"

"Just the general behaviour, sir! The sneaking around! The jumping when you saw me! By the way, those tentacula leaves - they're quite valuable, aren't they?"

At this, she took a brief glance at the venomous tentacula herself, understanding at once what they had walked in on him doing - and she respected it. He gave a knowing smile.

"Why - ten galleons a leaf to the right buyer! Not that I'm familiar with such back alley transactions, of course… one hears rumours is all! My own interests are purely academic, of course!" his smile faulted a bit, "... How… How… How may I help you both?"

"Well you see Professor, Daphne and I were going on an evening stroll down to visit my friend Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. Then we saw you and wondered if you would care to join us?"

"You… really shouldn't be out visiting friends at this time, my boy," he softly, looking over at the mass of black trees across the grounds. "It's nearly nightfall, surely you realise I can't in good faith condone you roaming the grounds at this time?"

"Daphne's a Prefect, aren't you, Daffy?"

She glared at his use of that nickname, then nodded proudly.

"I've condoned the visit, Professor."

He looked to be considering. His curiosity was evidently aroused by their sudden appearance, but he looked to be keeping his guard up.

"Well... well, I suppose one extra chaperone couldn't hurt..."

Harry beamed at him.

"Excellent!"

He sped them off across the grounds, delighted with himself. He hadn't waited for either of them, and after a shared look of bewilderment, they took off after him.

Leaving the greenhouses, they crossed out into the vast expanse of the grounds. The sun was low on the horizon. It was a tranquil scene. The contrasting colours of the greenery, the mountains and the black lake, all now with a vibrant purple hue coating them. There was a light breeze, gentle enough to keep them cool.

With him leading a few spaces ahead, Daphne took the opportunity to come closer to Horace

"Good to see you again, Daphne..." he said under his voice, "Don't tend to see much of your outside of lesson, anymore."

They both knew the reasons behind this, but she faked ignorance.

"Prefect duties combined with seven N.E.W.T classes are a difficult combination to manage."

He didn't seem entirely happy with that, and still looked distracted by her earlier referral to him as _Professor_. When he next spoke up, he was then addressing Harry as well as her.

"You know - I really didn't get to apologise for last week's incident! You should both know how deeply ashamed and... and regretful I am of the whole venture. I sincerely hope it hasn't affected your opinion of me! …Or, of our little club."

Harry gave a loud bark of a laughter, something that reminded her of Tracey.

"The poison? Completely forgotten about it! Haven't we, Daffy?"

It seemed there was a lot more he still had to say on the matter, but Harry wasn't sticking around to hear it. He was able to keep up such a pace that her thigh muscles were beginning to burn as they rubbed together. Horace frowned impatiently - then supported himself on her shoulder, huffing to catch his breath.

"He's quick, isn't he?"

She cast around for another change of subject, but was saved the necessity of finding one.

"Good heavens!" Horace exclaimed.

As the unlikely trio approached the Forbidden Forest, they stopped suddenly in a line. They had happened across something - the startling sight of an enormous dead spider. It lay on its back, its legs curled up above it in a tangled mess.

"Is that an actual acromantula?

"A dead one, I'd say, sir."

The sight of the corpse sent an unpleasant churning through Daphne. She had no problem with spiders or insects normally - a fact which had once surprised Tracey - but the unexpected sight of death had taken her quite aback.

The next sight to occur to them, was that of the solitary Care of Magical Creatures Professor nearby

"Merlin's Beard, Hagrid! How ever did you kill it?"

But as they approached, the half-giant gave a pitifully sob.

"_Kill_ it? One of my oldest friends, that is!"

His eyes were puffy, red and swollen. He looked to have fashioned himself a black armband out of what seemed to be a dirty rag dipped in boot polish. It came as no surprise to her that Rubeus Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor with a renowned for his fondness of dangerous creatures, had a friend acromantula.

Horace gaped, but Professor Hagrid waved at him sullenly.

"Ah, don' worry yerself. Yer not alone. Seriously misunderstood creatures spiders are! The eyes, ah reckon. Unnerve people. Thank yer both fer comin'..."

He trailed off and did a double take. At this moment, he seemed to have noticed her presence. She felt very tiny under his gaze, and moved to place Harry between them.

"Thank _all _of yer her comin', 'should say."

"I wouldn't want to be indelicate, but Acromantula venom is uncommonly rare and, well, if you wouldn't mind extracting a vial or two - purely for academic pursuits…"

She knew exactly what his _academic pursuits_ were, and the very thought made Daphne's insides burn with anger. How disrespectful would he be, just to make a profit? She didn't know how badly this request would be taken and moved herself clear as a precaution, but then to her surprise, he nodded.

"Don' suppose it's doin' 'im any good, izzit?" he cried.

"My thoughts exactly!" Horace beamed.

He rummaged quickly about his pockets, then extracted a small collection of mismatched vials.

"Always carry a few spare for just such occasions! Old Potion Master's habit, you know…"

Wobbling, he scrambled to get close to the acromantula through its mass of stiff, hairy legs. The trio watched him struggle, making no effort to assist him in his efforts.

"Wish yeh coulda seen 'im in 'is prime! Magnificent 'e was! Jus' magnificent…"

Between cries, the rugged Professor took a blanket-sized handkerchief out of his coat and snorted loudly into it. The force of the blow was enough to brush a strand of hair from Daphne's eyes.

Horace looked up, studied the half-giants expression with what appeared to be empathy - but could just have easily been confusion - and stepped away from the beast.

"Now - why don't I say a few nice words as we put him to rest?" he suggested.

Professor Hagrid nodded, looking both astonished and touched at the offer.

"Yes… yes, please…"

Horace cleared his throat. Harry nudged her. He gestured to her stance. She stood up straight and respectfully, though somewhat distracted by the fact he had so skilfully sank away, even she had somehow forgotten he was there.

"Farewell…"

He frowned.

"_Aragog_."

He nodded and began again, swapping into a distinguished speaking voice, reminding Daphne quite frighteningly of her father.

"Farewell, Aragog... Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home... May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained... Rest in peace, Aragog, _King_ of the Arachnids!"

Professor Hagrid let loose a loud howl, causing an out-of-sight dog to begin barking.

"Tha was…tha was…beau'iful!" he bellowed.

Daphne stepped aside in fear of being crushed. Harry patted him consolingly on the elbow, which was the highest point of him he could reach. Then he wiped his eyes and stepped forward. He walked to Aragog and studied him lovingly, then put a shoulder to the big beast's body and sent it tumbling into the freshly dug grave adjacent with a sickening crunch.

"There, there," Horace soothed

He waved his wand so that the huge pile of earth beside them rose up and fell with a muffled crash, onto the dead spider, slowly forming a smooth mound.

"Lets get inside and have a drink, shall we? In memory?"

Finally, a step in the right direction. She shared a glance with Harry, who beamed back at her. He seemed to be thinking the same as her, though seemed infinitely more chuffed about it. They would still need to find some way of getting rid of Rubeus Hagrid - not a prospect anyone looked forward to - but they were definitely on the right track.

Though the Grounds Keepers hut had been a part of Hogwarts scenery since she her first year, this was the first time she'd ever been inside it. It looked - and smelled - exactly how she had imagined it. They deposited their weeping Professor into a chair at the table. A large boar hound had been skulking in it's basket as they entered, but now came padding across the wooden floor greet them. It put it's head in Harry's lap, while steering far away from Daphne.

Horace uncorked a bottle of wine that had appeared from somewhere.

"Given the circumstances, I feel it appropriate to reassure you that both myself and Professor Snape have tested this for poison," he reassured them.

He poured most of the bottle into one of the cabin's bucket-sized mugs and handed it to the half-giant.

"Had every bottle tested what happened to poor Rupert and Travis. One for Harry…" he continued, dividing a second bottle between two more mugs, "... one for Daphne…and one for me. Well!"— he raised his mug high — "to Aragog!"

"Aragog!" they said together.

It had occurred to Daphne how easily it would be for him to again attempt to poison them. And because of this, under the guise of reaching forward for a drinks mat, she accidentally brushed against a bottle and sent it crashing to the floor. It didn't smash on impact, but succeeded in making each member of the table leap to try and grab it. In that time, she swapped hers and Harry's glass with the two Professor's, then returned to her stool like nothing had happened.

"Whoopsie daisy! There we are!"

To her continued annoyance, Harry decided to join the Professors as they drank. She, however, understood the path ahead relied on them having clear and alert heads, so merely pretended to take a gulp.

"Ah had him from an egg, yeh know!" Professor Hagrid announced morosely. "'Tiny little thing he was when he hatched. 'Bout the size of a Pekingese! A Pekingese!"

"So sweet!" Horace cooed.

"Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until…well…"

His face darkened and Daphne did not know why. Horace, however, did not seem to be listening; he was looking up at the ceiling, from which she spied a number of brass pots hanging, and also a long silky skein of white hair.

"Why - that's not unicorn hair, Hagrid?!"

He looked vaguely up at the area he gestured.

"Oh, yeah," he said indifferently. "Gets pulled out of their tails. They catch it on branches an' stuff in the forest, yeh know…"

Horace scoffed loudly.

"But my dear chap, do you know how much that's _worth_?"

"I use it fer bindin' on bandages an' stuff if a creature gets injured," he shrugged. "It's dead useful…very strong."

The ignorance did something to Horace, who took another deep draught from his mug, his eyes now moving carefully around the cabin. Daphne didn't blame him - now she joined in, what she had formerly regarded as useless nicknames and bits of wildlife was a treasure trove of rare creature-related items.

He refilled their mugs and then his own, and took to questioning about the other valuable creatures that lived in the forest and how to look after them all. It was enough for her to zone out of their conversation entirely before long. Not that she found Care of Magical Creatures boring, per say, but her concerns were more in the well-being of her own species, right now. Professor Hagrid, becoming bloated under the influence and Horace's flattering interest, stopped mopping his eyes and happily entered into a long explanation of bowtruckle husbandry.

It didn't seem they would be getting rid of him anytime soon. They would have to wait to make their move until a time after they had left the cabin, however long that may take.

"It's getting late," she reminded Harry, who has been listening to the Professors conversation with great interest.

He beamed at her, then gestured down to her jug.

"Then drink! We'll be here a while!"

Though she glared at him, he'd turned away quick enough not to have seen it.

She pouted. Truth be told, since raising the mug to her lips earlier, the scent of the wine had lingered in her taste buds.

As she swallowed, a shiver shot up her back. The wine had a very distinctive aftertaste. She breathed out, the fumes heavy in her nose. She couldn't remember if this was one of Horace or Professor Hagrid's, but considering the strength of it, thought it more likely of the latter.

Minutes passed as the two Professors continued their drunken ramblings, Daphne or Harry occasionally taking chances to jump in and contribute. Then slowly, as Daphne got progressively used to the texture of this new, half-giant wine, those minutes turned to hours. Shapes began to blur together and normally stationary objects were now starting to dance.

She was drunk in no time. And it was a remarkable time, at that. The only time she'd been this drunk this quickly was at Horace's Christmas party, and that time, she had helped herself to a good half a dozen of free glasses of wine. This occasion, however, she was barely at the bottom of her second jug. Whatever the wine was, it was damn-sight stronger than Ramiel Pure. She moved to get a better look at the label on the bottle - but caught Harry as he drew his wand. Hiding it under the table, he pointed it at the emptying bottles and without muttering a sound, the bottles began to refill. Daphne disguised gasp of surprised behind a cough, which went unnoticed. He grinned cheekily at her.

The potion was apparently working overtime with him tonight. Even she had only just began to master the basics of non-verbal magic.

There was a soft, barely audible breathing lingering in her ears. She turned suddenly, and was taken aback by his face now hovering mere millimetres from hers. The sudden jolt she gave caused their heads to collide with a harsh thud. The impact of our foreheads causes both of us to pull back and yelp in pain, though she sounded arguably more like a squeak toy than Harry did.

"Sorry! Sorry! I just... _wanted to..._"

He was leaning back in again. A heavenly urge was dragging her to meet him, but she resisted it. They had a mission to be getting on with... though if she was perfectly honest, she was a bit hazy on what exactly that mission had been.

Beside them, the two large men set about in a ruckus chuckle, signalling the end of another anecdote. Professor Hagrid took the break to excuse himself from the table and straighten himself up, then topped off everyone's mug with a bit more wine. Daphne brought her close... then, reluctantly, poured it into a plant pot by her feet.

"Sweet. I once had a fish. Francis. Lovely little thing..."

Horace continued, talking in a dreamy state from a conversation she hadn't been privy to.

"... One day I came downstairs and he'd vanished. Poof."

Professor Hagrid gave a large and animated frown, moving towards the cabin door.

"Tha's odd, innit!? Tell you wha' Ah'll be right back 'Orace, just nippin' out ta freshen up. Yer comin', Daphne?"

She flinched at the surprise mention of her name. She had no desire to be left alone with their gigantic Games Keeper, but one look at Harry told her to go with him. The prospect of leaving him alone with Horace was clearly another effect of the potion.

"Ah'll be gentle with 'er, don' you worry 'Arry!" he announced, standing back to let her pass through the door ahead of him.

The night air enveloped her. She gasped a refreshing breath of sober air, not realising how hot it had become in that hut with the four of them.

She walked across the freshly darkened garden toward an overgrown pumpkin patch, her chaperone waddling drunkenly by her side. She dared a glance up at him. Behind his wild mane of a beard he looked brutish and battle-scarred, very different from her usual kind of company. He was, as of course Daphne knew, a half-giant, though she tried not to let that affect her opinion of him. She didn't know his reasons for wanting her in private, but expected she was about to find out.

"Ow'd you know Aragrog, then?"

Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been that.

"Pardon?"

She tried to kept her voice as pleasant as she could, as his tone, too, was light and friendly.

"Ah didn't think 'e had any human friends 'sept fer me! And 'e never mentioned ya!"

She caught on, and felt guilty.

"Harry told me about the spider. I have a big respect for wildlife, so I was sad to hear it had passed away and came to pay respects."

"E's not an _it_. 'Es an '_e_!"

His voice had changed completely. It was not gentle any more, but angry, offended. She said nothing, knowing how bad saying the wrong thing could end up for her.

"... _He_," she eventually corrected herself.

Professor Hagrid seized the collar of his dragon skin coat, straightened it out and somehow, seemed to became even taller.

"Am half giant, yer know? Do ya think am an it?"

Again, she said nothing. She could tell, dimly, where this conversation was turning, but was not about to help them get there.

"Not at all, _Professor_."

"Ow does it' make ya feel, then?"

She looked briefly around - and saw Harry and Horace having an intimate discussion through the hut window. Whether she liked it or not, her place was out here tonight.

"It isn't your fault," she said, still endeavouring to keep her voice calm.

Not looking at him while she spoke certainly made it easier. She waited for him to say something back, but when he did not oblige, she went on.

"You are what you're born as, nobody can help that... It's what you do with the gift of life that matters!"

"Ah meant 'ow does that make ya _feel_? About me? About standin' 'ere next to me! Ah say yer face when ah said ah'd join ya, don't deny it!"

He had not been as successful at keeping emotion out of his voice as she had been. In fact, it had just about shook the glass of his cabin.

Daphne deliberated, wondering whether to lie or not. Of course, if he decided he didn't like her talking down to him about his race, there wouldn't be anything she could do about it. With the size and muscle behind him, she would break easier than a twig before even having chance to summon a curse his way. Her trust in Harry's judgement and need for the plan to work was about the only thing keeping her here.

She looked to the closest pumpkin, which had a skinny and frail tiny bowtruckle making its way across it. Probably how she looked like to him right now, come to think of it.

"Well, giants _are _known for being violent and malicious… but..."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him round on her aggressively.

"Ah! So it prolly makes yer think less o' me then, does it?"

She had to mull that one over for a few seconds. How brave was she feeling tonight?

"With your size, I scarcely think that would be possible."

Though he did not speak for a moment, his expression hardened instantly. They looked at each other, long and hard.

Finally, with no pretence or warning, he let out a bellowed laughter.

"YE GOT ME THERE, YOU 'AVE!"

She let out a tense breath. Or, more accurately, it was torn from her as he delivered a pat to her back that was so hard, it nearly sent her crashing straight into said pumpkin.

As his laughter died down, a stillness took the Hogwarts grounds. Though she couldn't see that far beyond the little hut, the noises of the lake and forest were present in her ears. It was a tranquil setting, and she was glad she was able to appreciate it more now than when she had her meeting with Sirius last week.

"Look - 'Arry is one of me best mates, 'e is. An' 'ah happen' to know what went down between the two of yer last year. It's not me business knowin' as a teacher, ah'm aware! But ah certainly won't be tellin' anyone, if tha's what yer worried about."

She didn't have the heart to tell him that the entire school also knew, but in fact, she appreciated the gesture all the same.

"You caused a lot of trouble fer 'im and 'is mates, yer know that?"

There was a gentleness in his voice now that hadn't been there before. Though he was accusing her of something, she felt no need to defend herself.

"BUT - but… well, 'e seems to really like ya, 'e does," he continued. "So does Sirius, actually. And ah've not known the pair of them ta be wrong often. Good judges of character if you ever met one. So, am willing ta give yer a chance. Just know that ah always put me mates interests first and foremost, got that?" he finished, regarding her with a fond, if bloodshot, eye.

His eyes were like little shining beetles inside that shaggy mess of a mane. She understood all at once why Harry liked him. He wasn't dangerous - well, he probably could be, if he really wanted - but he was a gentle soul. Looking into his eyes on this starry, moonlight night, something important connected inside her.

He could break her like a twig. But just because he could do something, didn't mean he would.

With an increasingly foolish feeling washing over her, she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. Somewhere out in the grounds, a shrill, musical cry echoed throughout the darkness. To her intense embarrassment, she realised her eyes were turning watery. Under her breath, she cursed, and blinked away the tears threatening to escape down her cheeks. Her heartbeat began to drown out the sound of the wind.

"Oh… _bollocks…_"

This wasn't her.

She was playing the part again. She had been relying on, if she tried hard enough, she'd eventually believe it herself. The truth was - she never wanted to force the memory out of Horace, she never wanted to use the Imperious curse, or hurt anybody more than she had already done. She just needed to do something that justified the anger she was feeling.

There was no getting around it, despite everything, despite her better judgement and all he had done to justify her hatred - she felt bad turning on her father.

He was probably on his way to Azkaban right now - not that she would know. She had been specifically avoiding any recent Daily Prophets for that precise reason. She was glad she had made the decision to, but the longer it sat with her, the worst it festered. But that was all it was, a guilty feeling, and she was strong against it. Stronger than she was last year, and a lot stronger than she had been when she'd been given her mark. She didn't allow herself to feel anything other than shame and hate towards him now. No, the issue wasn't the pain she felt, but it was how she was choosing to _deal_ with that pain, which was the issue. She tried harnessing it, weaponizing it and using it to spur her on. She used it to justify acting like a bitch to people, under the guise of acting for "_the greater good"_.

Maybe she wasn't as developed as she let herself believe - the second she felt conflicted, she had fallen right back into her old ways.

She was doing the same thing now that had doomed her as the Ice Queen, the only difference being now, it was for the other side. She was as closed off and narrow-minded as always, and again had convinced herself she was in the right. The problem wasn't the Ice Queen, it was her. Just because her allegiance had changed, didn't mean the rest of her had also. She wasn't suddenly a good person, now she was on the good side.

A long silence passed as the two stared out into the dark of the grounds.

"Penny 'fer yer thoughts?" he asked.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering how best to embark on what she wanted to say. How could she have been such an idiot? If she hadn't have had this talk with him, she might not even have realised it. And now she had, she suddenly felt increasingly ashamed of her behaviour the past few days.

"Do the ends justify the means?"

She tried to sound casual, as though it was a throwaway question of no real importance. But he gave a long sigh, with a hint that he understood.

"Good question, tha' is... An' ya prolly need someone smarter than me ta' answer it... What ah reckon though is, it all depends on the end, see? If the end is permanent, but the means aren't, then ah'd say so! _But _if ya gotta lose somethin' important ter get there, somethin' ya can't get back, then ah'd say evaluate very carefully if where yer are right now is that bad afterall!"

"Thank you, Professor."

"Call me Hagrid. Yer've earned it."

Daphne, who hadn't expecting that, smiled fondly.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I _am_ sorry about Aragog."

Before he could respond, there was a ruckus of noise and their scene was disturbed. The door to the cabin swung open and Harry and Horace left together, holding each other tighlty, but looking considerably more sober than they had earlier.

"Hagrid! My friend! Good heavens, have you seen the time? These two need to be back off to the castle!"

Hagrid clapped his hands loudly together, startling her and sending a flock of birds flying from a nearby tree.

"Right! Right! Scram, the pair of yer! Not gettin' in trouble on my behalf!"

Her attention zeroed in on Harry, who was stumbling merrily towards her. Her heart didn't race nor pound anymore as she reached his proximity.

"Did you get it?"

He winked, causing her to go stiff.

Results spoke for themselves - it had been him that got the memory in the end, not her. That was probably down to the luck potion, but also her technique.

"Thank all of ya fer comin'. Ah know he would 'ave been absolutely made up with such a turn out! Ya'll are welcome down 'ere any time ya like, remember that!"

She looked up at Hagrid and felt a mix of surprise, sorrow, and yet also the deepest gratitude she thought she'd ever felt. The only reaction she could muster among her conflicting emotions was a smile. She would _definitely_ remember that.

She was then able to wrangle Harry, stopping him speeding off without her. He took her hand in his, as gentle and warm as ever and they slowly began the walk back to the castle. For whatever reason, Horace had decided to remain behind. Which was lucky, because the new mood had set in and begged they not receive any extra company.

_Lucky._

She grinned drunkenly at her own joke.

They held each other tightly as they climbed the incline. She squeezed hard on the hand holding hers. Her normally confident figure was now fragile. Something in her had broken tonight. Just as it had the fabled night of Horace's party. This difference was this had not been a sad revelation, but an empowering one.

"Harry, wait."

A single gust of wind rustled the trees and a second of silence passed.

"What is it?"

She wasn't able to check the time before they left, but judging by the night sky, it was late. Her energy was starting to wear off; it was a miracle that she managed to last this long. Even Harry, in his dazed and drunken state, was starting to look a bit tired. They had come to a stop just before the entrance to the bridge. An important spot, as it has been where she had confessed herself to him last year. A similar feeling of assurance swept her now. It was a romantic moment; she felt compelled to say something stupid and brave. And as they stood alone, she knew what it had to be.

She took a long breath, a slight shakiness to it.

"Let's just stay here. Just for tonight."

No more action to the castle was made. She leaned her head into his shoulder as he put his arm around her waist. It was the kind of public display of affection that would make her take house points away, had it been anyone else. But neither of them wanted to break this peaceful scene. With his eyes shut above her, he looked peaceful, and might well have been asleep. Even if he was, she wouldn't have minded, the warmth of his body pressing against hers, the secure feeling of his hand on her back... and that smile. That wonderful smile that was engraved into her memory. It was a contagious smile and she knew for once, they were both sharing it.

Their pasts were scattered and their futures shadowed by darkness; that much was undeniable. It would be as impossible to remove them from their lives as it would be to remove blue from the sky. But even with all that had happened already - and all that may well inevitably befall them in the future -now she was stood here and looking into that goofy smile, she was quite sure she wouldn't change a thing. Because her past, her mistakes, failures and all, were exactly what lead her here, tonight.

She closed her eyes and brought her face to his neck, pushing tightly into him.

"I think I love you, Harry."

She tried saying it as matter-of-factly and with few words as possible. For a fleeting moment, he went still, and she set about worrying. The only movement was the calm night time breeze. She felt as if she wanted to break into a run, yet was rooted firmly to this spot. She couldn't hear anything moments ago, but now she was picking up every ambient noise. Then, he let out a knowing chuckle.

"I love you too, Daphne."


	35. Snake in Lion's Clothing

The lingering good mood from that night was the only thing that kept him going in the days that followed. The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was vastly approaching, and all of his time had been taken up trying to prepare them for that. It meant he and Daphne didn't get to see each other as frequent as they would have liked - but the fond memories kept him going.

Spring was slowly beginning to sink into summer. The normally lush fields of the castle grounds were now a hazy green, and the nights following up to the match were accompanied by dry thunderstorms. The temperature in the stuffy castle corridors rose so far that many students got in trouble for not wearing appropriate attire, there had been a particularly bad scare where they almost lost another player - when Katie Bell was given detention by Snape for wearing a skirt that was deemed "distracting".

The night before the match was on them in no time. Ginny sat bolt upright in the common room's arm chair, fixedly staring into space. She looked, Harry considered, quite like the way Ron had when he'd accidentally put that slug-vomiting charm on himself. Just as pale and sweaty as he had done, and seemed reluctant to open her mouth.

"If you can just zone out from the match and focus only on finding the snitch, it makes it easier," he and the others tried to help. "We're still in the lead so we don't need to score anything before you catch it, but if are able to get zero-forty then we'll be at risk and -"

" - and don't worry about bludgers, me and Cormac will be tailing you - "

" - look even if the match is turning in their favor, you just keep concentration - "

" - and if we do fall under forty then we'll send someone out to alert you - "

"Shut up, all of you, please!" she snapped at them.

She had been letting the nerves get to her. He had never seen her like this - he'd always know her to be overwhelmingly positive when it came to Qudditch. It wasn't helped that the whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match - they hadn't lost the Cup in five years and even Professor McGonagall had heavily implied that she would not be happy if she had to surrender the trophy to Snape. But Harry doubted any of them, even she, wanted to win as much as he did.

This wasn't just a Gryffindor match against Slytherin. This was his team in a match against Malfoy. Since the duel, the enmity between them was possibly at its highest ever point. He was still furious Malfoy had somehow wormed his way out of punishment. Katie also seemed to have come round to his way of thinking, and was equally as positive that he deserved to be humiliated. Ginny wasn't allowed just to win - she had to win _spectacularly_.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere.

They ate dinner in silence the next day. Ginny looked more confident than she had last night, but there was a certain wobble in her knees as she'd sat down that made him worry. The unexpected anxiety had crippled her to the point he was sure she was only going ahead with it because she felt he had to. Under normal circumstances, he'd have exercised his right as Captain and demanded she not play in her condition. But needs really were a must on this anticipated summer evening.

Harry had been hoping when they'd crossed into the grounds they'd catch a nice breeze, but the air was just as dry, and the only change was now the lack of shade.

As they walked down the grounds they found everyone out in bulk for the last match of the season. Huge crowds in orange and scarlet cheered and brandished flags their way, chanting slogans "GO GRYFFINDOR!" and "LIONS FOR THE CUP." An equal number of green robes booed them as well, and somehow they felt overwhelmingly louder. All in all, it was about the least welcoming sight Ginny could have expected, and the normally brave, hardened girl was having to support herself on Nadia by the time they reached the changing rooms.

"Ooooh, you'll be fine! It's just the nerves!" she cooed.

"I KNOW IT'S THE NERVES! THAT'S BECAUSE I'M _NERVOUS_!" she snapped desperately back.

There was not much reason for Harry and Ron to be down here with them - since they couldn't play, they would have much better chance at seeing the match from the stands, but neither could bear to abandon the team in their time of need. So, though their support was reduced mostly to the moral kind, they entered the changing rooms. But one by one, came to a halt.

Harry, who had been heading up the rear, was the last to find out why.

"_DA-DA-DA-DAAAAAAAA!"_

The voice that had sang was one that absolutely had no right being down here. Harry fought his way in front of the team.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he sighed.

The intruder raised their hands defensively.

"_Before_ you shout, hear me out! I have a plan that can make us _all _happy…"

Feeling desperate, he listened. As cautious as all of them were, they all did. And by the time the plan had been explained to them, there was just one question left in Harry's head.

Felix Felicis couldn't _still _have been in his system, could it?

* * *

There was a great deal of noise going on in the castle that morning. The Great Hall was alive with green and red - though one significantly outnumbered the other. The odds were supposed to be against Slytherin for this match, but with the recent news out that Gryffindor had lost both it's combined Seeker, Captain and Keeper, the tide seemed to be changing. Tensions were swelling between the two houses and though she wouldn't dare admit it, Daphne actually caught herself being caught up in the spirit once or twice. If supporting her house didn't mean also supporting Draco Malfoy - she might even have joined in on a bit of it.

Truth be told, she didn't know what was making her care about the coming match. She had no formal interest in the sport prior to this year and hated flying herself. But it was after hearing what it meant to Tracey and attending the practices that it had grown on her. She felt enough of a connection between her and the anticipation of this big, final match that if she didn't go she would actively be letting somebody down.

As dinner arrived, a dilemma made itself known. The question occurred to her about if attending the match _was _a good idea or not. She had the idea that if Tracey wasn't able to play, the least she could do was use her Prefect abilities to ensure they had good seating for the match. That had the plan, but after failing to find her in her dorm, common room or Great Hall, it occurred to her the match might be the last place she'd want to be. Suppose Draco won - then she'd have front row seats to see him claim her victory. Then she thought of Harry and where he was - and arrived at the same conclusion that he was probably just as annoyed as she was.

Both of them would have been completely justified boycotting the match all together. If both were essentially doing that, how would they feel about her going? She wanted to show support, but what if support wasn't what they wanted for it? On the flip side of that, she didn't want to put words in mouths and not attend, only to then appear uninterested... She debated her chances of just finding Harry and asking. The house pride was out in droves today, being a Sunday, so they would have little chance of being able to find each other...

And then, her heart erupted into a swarm of butterflies and dizziness, as often it did thinking of him these days. They hadn't seen each other since that fabled night, of which was now deeply ingrained as a core memory. He had quickly become the first thing she thought of when waking up and the last thing through her head as she went to bed. She'd been in a resounding good mood the past few days because of that night - she'd never left less like the Ice Queen if tried.

She loved him. She was _in _love with him. Why had it taken her so long to realize it? Him breaking down her boundaries in ways she never thought possible, the euphoric escapism experienced being in his presence and the relentless, powerful draw to each other when divided … She didn't just fancy him. She _loved _him - and truth be told, probably had for a while now.

And then he loved her _back_. A sweep of something... odd, but pleasant, swept Daphne's back and she felt positively giddy. She stared at her reflection in her soup. She had a unusual smile plastered on her face - the exact same goofy, messy one she always saw on him. Was this why he always had that smile, she wondered? Was this the smile of someone in love?

She hoped she would get to see him at the match. Though she might have embarrassed herself with her behavior the past few days, she had been right about one thing - she really couldn't care less if people knew about them anymore. To the Death Eaters, when news inevitably got back to them, she would just look like she was fulfilling her role. And as for the other students in the castle… she wouldn't hesitate to take more house points if needed. She wasn't scared of any of them, and got more happiness out of being with Harry than she did with any of their approval. Though he seemed reluctantly about it, there was not a single thing stopping her from going public about it.

In the soup, her goofy smile turned into something more wicked, and slightly evil. Imagine telling her fourth year self this was her future. _This_ was the future she had willingly chosen for herself

Despite the buzz and energy about the school, the rest of Daphne's day passed quickly and quietly and when time finally came, she began the trip down to the Qudditch pitch. She had accepted the daunting truth - yes, a small part of her had grown to enjoy the sport. She _wanted _to see the match. As for quite who she wanted to win, she'd have to wait to see. She would support her own house out of principle, if routing for Slytherin didn't also mean routing for Draco Malfoy. But her presence on the Gryffindor side of the bleachers probably wouldn't be the most welcomed either.

Her mixed feelings on attending made her arrive late, and most were already seated by the time she reached the Slytherin bleachers. An outrageous amount of noise was being made from all sides of the stands, and she quickly remembered one of the reasons she never thought to attend a match before. There were simply too many people in close proximity to be allowed.

To make matters worse, as she moved deeper and deeper through the noisy aisles, the only spare seat she happened across was not ideal. When it became apparent there was nowhere else, though she and Dominique caught one another's eyes.

"Ah am surprised you 'ar 'er," she said over the crowd.

Truth be told, Daphne was surprised herself. She would admit it to nobody, much less her, that over the course of attending group practices, she had secretly grown to enjoy the game a small amount.

The sun was setting early tonight, painting the stadium with violet and scarlet. The patterns molded in the clouds above them were almost as appealing to watch as the game was. Finally, and leaving behind a distinct ringing in her ears, the crowd around them died down.

"_Helloooooooo Ladies and Gentlemen! Lee Jordan coming at you for what will be his time as Qudditch commentator! I know, I know! Ladies, try not to cry! There's simply so much more out there in the world for me now than this dingy old place… but until then, how about we make this a good one, yeah?"_

The spectators screamed and clapped again. Hundreds of house pride flags waved, adding discordant national anthems to the racket. Daphne was somewhat relieved to see Dominique's prim and proper attitude was just as discouraged by this aggressive attitude as she was.

"_Let's start with the Slytherins! We have Slave Owne- I mean Captain! It's GRAHAM MONTAGUE!"_

A green blur zoomed out onto the field, making a noise like a zipper being done up very fast. Their side of the stands, which was a solid block of green and silver roared with approval. She and Dominique settled for clapping politely.

"_Neeeext up is the Seeker who definitely isn't on the team because of his daddy's blood money, it's DRACO MALFOY!" _

Another green blur shot onto the field, folded by another, then another.

"_We have the Chasers! We've goooooot ADRIAN PUCEY, it's his last year as well, which means the lucky second years are about to get their girls back! The Fresh Prince Of Bellend, it's BLAISE ZAAAAAAABINI! OLIVER HARPER! No joke there, but he's also a bit of a nob. And laaaaaastly everyone's favorite trolls with wings, VINCENT CRABBE and GREGORY GOYLE!"_

There was a horrific fumbling of static through the microphone. Daphne would have shielded her ears from it as others did, were she not too busy trying to hide her smile.

"_It was a joke, Professor! It's my last one, alright? Let me have a little fun! And here are the Gryffindors! Our Chasers! We have KATIEEE BELL, a fantastic player, that girl! I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me! Next, we have the daughter of wand makers, so you know she can handle her wood! It's NAAAAADIA KHANNA! Next, the only thing redder than her hair will be her teammates' sorry ass...Wait, wasn't she..? Okay, Okay! It's GINNYYYYY WEASLEY!" _

As the red blurs joined the field, Jordan's comments were drowned out by a tide of 'boos' from the Slytherin end. Daphne and Dominique exchanged pitfiful glances - and brought themselves lower in their seats, shamefully.

"_Its mighty CORMAC MCLAGGEN filling in for Ron Weasley as Keeper - tough old luck Ron, but live to play another day, ey? This matches Beaters are DEMELZA BASKIN-ROBBINS and Gryffindor's resident stud bike, DEAN THOMAS! And finally… Seriously? Is that allowed?"_

For the second time, Lee Jordan was pulled aside from the microphone to have a conversation with, she presumed, was Professor McGonagall.

" _Blimey - Alright then! In a never before seen move - and with special permission from Professor McGonagall, please welcome - Gryffindors FIRST guest Seeker, Slytherin's very own - TRACEEEEEY DAVIS!" _

The noise stopped dead.

Flags were lowered.

The boos and cheers faded to nothing as a stunned, haunting quiet took over the pitch. Everyone looked at each other, excitement quite abandoned, as they were all sure they must have misheard what was said.

The final zipping noise sounded and a scarlet streak shot into the pitch. Everyone watched as it performed a loop-de-loop before stopping dead, though the rider continued on, pirouetting around their broom like a gymnast. They came to a rest, dangling by their knees. Turned out, everyone _had _heard correctly. Tracey Davis was wearing Gryffindors trademark orange and yellow uniform, and looked inordinately happy with herself.

Daphne blinked.

"What the fu-"

A thunderous chorus of cheers and applause erupted from the Gryffindor side of the stands. It was enough to drown out the entire stadium, though the other houses were too stunned and to join in or protest. Daphne's eyes leapt to their side of the pitch, where the Slytherin team looked shaken. She could see Blaise shouting furiously at Crabbe and Goyle. Draco wasn't moving, but even at this distance, she could tell he was infuriated.

Jordan's salty laughter haunted the stands.

"_I think this one's going to be a gooden. Players, positions!" _

The sound of Madam Hooch's whistle was lost in the roar that finally sounded from the rest of the stadium. From their side of the pitch, Daphne could hear shouts and swearing directed down into the grounds, words like "_cheating_" and "_shouldn't be allowed_" stood out, as though they, of all people, had all suddenly sprouted a supreme and passionate love of school rules.

"'Ow can zhe do zhat? 'Ow can zhe play for another team? Ah did not know zhat waz allowed!"

As she watched Tracey, in her gold and yellow robes, streak across the pitch, all she could do was smile.

"When has that ever stopped her before?"

"_And they're off! Straight away it's Gryffindor in possession! Katie Bell of Gryffindor with the quaffle, heading straight for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good, Katie! Argh, no — quaffle intercepted by Zabini, Zabini of Slytherin tearing UP the field — OOF! — nice bludger work there by Dean Thomas, Zabini drops the wuaffle, it's caught by — Weasley, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Weasley! — nice swerve around Harper — duck, Katie, that's a bludger! – SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR ALREADY!"_

Bell punched the air as she soared around the end of the field. Daphne dared a glance - the sea of scarlet opposite them was screaming with delight. When she turned back, it was just in time to see Bell nearly thrown from her broom as Oliver Harper smashed into her.

"_OOOOH! YEAH, FINE WAY TO BEHAVE!"_

"Sorry!" Harper shouted as the crowd booed. "Sorry, didn't see her!"

A moment later, the Gryffindor beater angled a bludger at the back of his head. It collided, smashing his nose into the handle of his broom. Madam Hooch shrieked as she zoomed toward them.

"That will do!" she shrieked "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!"

She heard one of the Gryffindor Chasers yell, but Madam Hooch blew her whistle and one of them flew forward to take the penalty.

"_Come on, Khanna!"_ Lee yelled into the silence that had descended on the crowd.

The ball soared through the air, over the head of Graham Montague and through the goalpost.

"_YES! SHE'S BEATEN THE KEEPER! TWENTY-TEN TO GRYFFINDOR!"_

Harper, now bleeding freely from his nose, flew forward to take the Slytherin penalty. The Gryffindor replacing Weasley - Daphne struggled to keep up to date with that names - hovered ominous.

"'_Course, McLaggans a fine substitute Keeper!"_ Lee Jordan told the crowd as they waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. "_Superb! Very difficult to pass — very difficult indeed — YES! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! HE'S SAVED IT!"_

Satisfied, Daphne turned her attention, gazing around for where Tracey had gotten to, though still making sure she caught every word of Lee's commentary. She was now extremely glad she had decided to come watch this match. It was absolutely essential that Gryffindor won tonight.

"_Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession — no! Gryffindor back in possession and it's Ginny Weasley, Weasley for Gryffindor with the Quaffle, she's streaking up the field — OOOOH THAT WAS DELIBERATE!" _

Blaise had swerved, too late for her to avoid, and smashed into the side of her. Her broom was sent cart-wheeling through the air with her barely attached - and she didn't manage to hold onto the quaffle. For the third time since the match started barely ten minutes ago, Madam Hooch's whistle rang out again. She soared to Blaise and began shouting at him and a minute later, Ginny put another penalty past the Slytherin Keeper.

"_THIRTY-TEN! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —"_

"_Jordan, if you can't commentate in an unbiased way —"_

"_I'm telling it like it is, Professor!"_

Daphne felt a jolt of morbid excitement. The game was slowly devolving into some kind of airborne-wrestling match.

It was quickly becoming obvious that Slytherin was playing dirty. Clearly enraged that their ex-Seeker had sold them out, combined with Gryffindor taking such an early lead, they were quickly resorting to any means necessary to win. From the glances she caught of their faces, every one of them looked ready to physically attack anything that got in their way. That could either be from the sheer principle of the betrayal, or the fact they knew what an asset Tracey would be to the Gryffindor. She wasn't just a skilled player in her own right after all - she had also helped organize the Slytherin team, which meant she also knew each and every one of their tactics.

And it had probably gone over all of their heads that their anger would cause them to be sloppy and disorganized, making them the easiest kind of opponent to win against.

Goyle hit Demelza Robbins with his club and tried saying he'd thought she was a bludger - Madam Hooch wasn't convinced and it was another penalty shot to Gryffindor. Soon after, Dean Thomas elbowed Adrian Pucey in the face in retaliation. Madam Hooch awarded penalties to Slytherin, but Cormac - Daphne was sure - pulled off a very close save, making the score forty-ten to Gryffindor.

At this point, she began to worry a little. After her initial entrance, Tracey seemed to have completely vanished from the pitch. Her eyes searched the stands, grounds below and the support structures, but nowhere she turned could she glimpse head nor tail of her.

Another point had been scored, but nobody had a chance to hear who.

"_Another point scored by - OOOH! CLOSE ONE!"_

Tracey had appeared materialized in the middle of the pitch, seemingly from nowhere, and one of the bludgers came streaking within inches of her face. Seconds later, another bludger thundered past and looked to graze her elbow.

"_OOOOOOOH! CLOSE TWO!"_

Daphne had a fleeting glimpse of two large shapes rushing towards her - but far too fast for eyes to see, Tracey had brought her Siberian Arrow upward and Crabbe and Goyle collided midair with a sickening crouch.

"_AHHH AHAHAHA!_ _Too bad, boys! You'll need to get up earlier than that to catch Davis! I bet Professor Snape is regretting getting her kicked from the team now!"_

Surprisingly, there was no chorus of boos or hisses from their side. Instead, there was a very heated silence. Daphne looked around to see furious faces, but none that looked like they disagreed with Jordans announcement. Probably half of them thought it would be worth Gryffindor winning just to have Professor Snape live with his shame. Daphne certainly felt that way.

"_And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Khanna passes to Bell — Pucey comes in alongside her — spit in his eye, Katie! — another joke, Professor, only a joke — oh no! — Pucey in possession, Pucey flying toward the Gryffindor goal posts, come on now, McLaggen, save —!"_

But Pucey scored; there was finally a change of rhythm around Daphne and the boos became an eruption of cheers.

Lee Jordan sighed.

"_Rat bastards… Sorry, Professor, sorry! Won't happen again! So, Gryffindor in the lead, sixty points to twenty, and Gryffindor in possession —_"

Tracey had disappeared again. She clearly had a good tactic for that, Daphne observed. Wherever she was hiding, Draco was sticking close to the center of the pitch, looking for both her and the snitch.

Katie scored again - now it was seventy to twenty. Dean and Demezla hovered around her defensively, since she was proving to be the Slytherins' main target, after Tracey. However, Crabbe and Goyle took advantage of their short absence to aim both bludgers at McLaggen and they caught him in the stomach, one after the other. The stadium simultaneously winced as Cormac rolled over in the air, clutching his broom and moaning.

Madam Hooch was absolutely beside herself —

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!" she shrieked at them. "Gryffindor penalty!"

Then Ginny scored. That put them at eighty-twenty. Moments later, Dean Thomas pelted a bludger at Harper and knocked the quaffle out of his hands; Bell seized it and put it through another goal, which put them at ninety-twenty. The Gryffindor crowd opposite was screaming itself hoarse. The more they scored, the angrier and more violent the Slytherin team seemed to get. Daphne had to keep consciously reminding herself to look around for Tracey, more out of worry for her safety than hoping she would catch the snitch.

"_OOOOOH HERE WE GO!" _

The crowd realized what was happening before she did; everyone rose to their feet and craned themselves to get a better look. Tracey had appeared and was thundering across the pitch, Draco close on her tail. She must have seen the snitch — Daphne couldn't tell where — but the look of sudden concentration was unmistakable. She flattened herself against her Siberian Arrow and sped towards the ground — Draco harrowing closely after her.

"Zhe are goin' to crash!" Dominique screamed.

She was half right — but at the very last second, Tracey pulled out of it. Draco didn't match her response time and hit the ground with a painful thud, heard all throughout the stadium. Tracey hovered in the air, feet above the grounds. She dropped backwards off her broom again, clinging to it with only her knees, and pressed and large 'L' to her forehead. The stadium roared with cheers. Daphne covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"_SHE FEINTED HIM! SHE'S ONLY - BLOODY - GONE AND FEINTED HIM! MERLINS BEARD, HE MUST FEEL LIKE A COMPLETE AND TOTAL TIT!" _

Daphne didn't know what a feint was - but it didn't take her long to figure it out. By Tracey continuing to linger and mock Draco's crippled form - slowly, the pieces clicked together. She had never seen the snitch in the first place. A satisfied smugness took her face. Suddenly, she didn't put it past Tracey to join the Gryffindor team tonight with the soul intention of getting to do that.

It _was _a dangerous world they were livin' in these days, after all.

Shortly after, a timeout was set in place. While the Slytherins argued and Draco tried to fistfight Madam Pomfrey, Tracey remained high in the sky above the rest. She flipped, dived, loop-de-looped and did all manner of movements Daphne never thought possible. She was showing off to the hundreds of eyes following her, and for a few brief minutes, the Quidditch match had turned into a ballet show.

"_This lass is on fire! What a queen! If he can do that with a broomstick, imagine what she can do with-"_

"_JORDAN!"_

"_With a bat! I was gonna say bat!" _

Judging by his lovesick tone of voice, he was definitely not going to say a bat.

Daphne dared a glance around her. Even a few members of their own house had become entranced watching Tracey movements.

The game was still ninety-twenty now. Slytherin was awarded a penalty because of Tracey's feint, but Blaise was so angry he missed by several feet. Not only was their team losing concentration but the Gryffindors, delighted by Tracey's energy, were being spurred on to greater heights.

"_Slytherin in possession, Slytherin heading for goal — Montague scores —"_ Lee groaned. "_Seventy-forty to Gryffindor…"_

Draco wasn't going to let Tracey disappear this time, it seemed. He was marking her so closely that their legs looked to be touching. It made Daphne anxious, knowing he could easily strike out against her at any moment. But it seemed a victory was the only revenge he wanted, as that violence never came.

"_Ginny Weasley gets the quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Ginny, COME ON!"_

Every single Slytherin player apart from Malfoy was streaking up the pitch toward — all desperately moving to block her, but Daphne turned back just in time to see Tracey fire into the scene. The green blurs scattered as the Arrow cut them in half; Ginny's way was clear.

"_SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads one-hundred to forty!"_

Tracey almost pelted herself headfirst into the stands, but managed to skid to a halt in time, reverse midair, and zoom back into the middle of the field. Unfortunately, it was as though this maneuver had been specifically timed to happen now.

"SNITCH SIGHTED! SNITCH SIGHTED! MALFOY IS GAINING, COME ONNNN, DAVIS!"

Daphne and Dominique both lurched forward in their seat, squinting to see. Tracey put on a huge burst of speed. The stadium erupted once again as she and Draco shot, plummeting through the center of the Chasers, fast enough that they looked as though they had both been fired from cannons.

Draco was in the lead - how he had any idea where he was going, Daphne had no idea - but Tracey was gaining on him. She was at his ankles — his chest — she flattened herself against her broom hard — she was level with him — just about pulling ahead — her hand reached out for the golden snitch —

"_CHEATING SCUM!"_

Daphne's earlier suspicions had proven right — Draco hammered his fist down hard on Tracey's chest.

"_YOU FIFTHLY, CHEATING LITTLE SHIT!"_

It wasn't Jordan that time - Professor McGonagall had torn the microphone from his hands and was shouting into it herself. Daphne was suddenly so angry the only thing that stopped her leaping from her seat and casting a curse across the pitch as she was frozen to the spot with anticipation.

Time itself seemed to be slowing down. As the race for the Snitch brought them closer to the stands, she caught a glimpse of Tracey's face. Sheer, unfiltered anger was etched across it. He delivered a series of quick and swift punches, each one sending her back a few inches. She elected not to defend herself and took each force as it came, instead stretching herself further and further out towards the dancing snitch. The crowd around her was going mental, an ungodly of cheering and booing. Draco continued to deliver swift painful looking hits, most of which were now slipping harmlessly off her shoulder.

Finally, she retaliated. Her fist collided with his already blooded face and he was sent hurtling backwards off his broom — but not without clasping his hand around her leg first. Together, they were torn from their broomsticks and fell the remaining twenty feet through the air, landing with a bone-chilling crunch onto the ground.

A second later, Tracey's solitary shoe landed beside them.

Then, Daphne saw something that made her heart stand still. From the heap they had landed in, a single hand rose into the air - the snitch held tight in it's fist, beating its wings hopelessly. And belonging to a Gryffindor sleeve.

"_SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH! SHE'S GOT THE SNITCH! TRACEY DAVIS HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!"_

Daphne and Dominique catapulted out of their seats.

"YEEEEEESSSSSSSS!"

Opposite them, the Gryffindor stand exploded as well. Thousands of shrieks and screams of delight echoed across the castle grounds, while nothing but a stunned silence came from the Slytherins. A stunned silence, and the few hundred eyes glaring at Daphne and Dominique, who were the only ones standing. Cheeks glowing, they returned their bottoms to their seats.

* * *

Wave upon wave of crimson supporters was pouring over the barriers and onto the field. Daphne fought her way through the crowd to get to the changing room, Dominique hotly behind her, as a chorus of song filled her ears.

_"DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN! DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN!"_

If anything could have made Daphne's evening any better, it was this. Dominique, had fought her way through to her side, doubled over with laughter as they watched Tracey being hoisted high above the rest, on the shoulders of a cheering Harry and Dean Thomas. Harry had abandoned all professionalism and as energetic as the rest, meaning it was Dean who noticed them first.

"Hey, check this out!" he jabbed a finger at her. "We got the Ice Queen, _and _the Fire Queen!"

Then something strange happened. Another cheer went up and Daphne felt two large impacts as Parvati Patil and Fay Dunbar dove into her - to her great surprise, there was suddenly dozens of people she barely knew attempting to hug her. For a few seconds she was on the receiving end of a messy blur of noise and body contact, then suddenly she and Dominique were scooped up by the crowd. Frankly, she was too stunned by this completely opposite reaction to be able to fight it.

"FIRE QUEEN! FIRE QUEEN! FIRE QUEEN!" the Gryffindor crowd chanted.

Supported on Parvati and Fay shoulders, her head was now feet from the tent ceiling. At last, she met Tracey with direct eye-contact. Words failed her. Tracey smiled knowingly, but made no effort to explain herself.

"Hey, don't suppose you grabbed my shoe?"

* * *

_A/N Yes, Lee Jordan should have left the year before, but his commentaries are my favorite in the books and I couldn't not write for him. And before you ask - it doesn't TECHNICALLY state anywhere that you can't play for another house's team, so I rolled with it. _


	36. The Fire Queen

There was a blazing banner strung across the ceiling above them, the words "DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN", which then were regularly swapped out with "THE FIRE QUEEN". It was an amusing play on words, she admitted it. Her, with her introverted and reserved persona, and Tracey as enthusiastic, ever-passionate extrovert. Their contrast was obvious and frankly - she was a little annoyed the clever play on words had never occurred to her before. Of course, since the drama kicked off last year, she couldn't remember the last time she had been referred to as The Ice Queen. Usually because people either hated her or were too frightened to refer to her at all, but still. It had long been a goal of hers to outgrow the nickname in time - but she never thought she'd have ended up passing it on to another.

_"DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN! DAVIS IS OUR QUEEN!"_

The Gryffindor common room was teeming with Quidditch players and students alike, all celebrating Tracey's victory. Daphne had never seen anything like it, nor did she imagine it even remotely possible. Her and Harry, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, were a fluke. A once in a lifetime occurrence. The personality types just didn't match, just didn't go together. But now, to be seeing so many actively, enthusiastically and willingly breaking down the house barriers felt her simply speechless. Daphne took the praise she received, smiling as she sipped the Butterbeer that had been handed her way. At the center of all the excitement was Tracey, who was lapping it up as ungracefully and obnoxiously as was expected of her. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel proud at the sight. She had come in as their saving grace, and now they treated her like a messiah.

Everyone was acting as though they had won not just the Quidditch Cup, but the House cup, and then also the Triwizard cup and the Order of Merlin first class as well. Two of the Gryffindor players, she couldn't tell who through the crowd, disappeared and returned with armfuls of butterbeer, fire whiskey, and several bags of Honeydukes sweets. Daphne imagined, with a vain sense of irony, that this was probably what a music concert felt like.

It was Daphne's first and only time in another house's common room - and it looked pretty much exactly how she had expected it to. Prefects, of course, were allowed in other classes' dormitories, such was the standard, but Tracey and Dominique, on the other hand…Perhaps one day she would lose this giddy feeling she got when she knew she was being naught and breaking the school rules - but that certainly wasn't today.

The crowd radiated around Tracey, who was still hoisted on their shoulders as they sung her praise, while Daphne, feeling happier than she had in ages, resigned herself to watching them on the outskirts. This was fine with her - Even in her best mood and with her head swimming in alcohol, she didn't fancy herself much as the centre-of-attention type.

Finally, Harry was able to fight his way through the crowd to her side. He had been one of the progenitors of the rising party, and even now she could see the sweat pouring off him.

"This is amazing!" he cheered.

Smirking, she lifted the butterbeer to her lips. His tone of voice told her that he too, was as awe-inspired by the sight unfolding before them as she was.

"I never thought I'd see the day…" she took another sip, then followed up quickly with, "You wouldn't get this the other way around, of course. It'd take a lot to make Slytherin's warm up to any Gryffindor."

"Trust me, I know."

He gave a smarmy laugh that, in that second, reminded her infinitely of Tracey.

"Don't you think this could be the start, though? Of breaking down the house boundaries? Me and you - what if we started something!? And now this kind of thing is gonna be happening more?"

She fought to keep her tone from sounding demeaning.

"Optimistic…"

Then her eyes lingered over to the cheering crowd, who Tracey was leading the newest rendition of their chant.

"Then again," she added, "... if you ever told me I'd be attending a drinks party in the Gryffindor common room, I would probably have laughed at you."

He chuckled again.

"You? Laugh? Don't be ridiculous."

She repressed a laugh of her own the only way she knew how - by glaring intently at him.

"I am a Prefect, you know?" she spat at him. "_I'm_ allowed here, but Tracey and Dominique certainly are not! I could shut this whole event down and send you all to bed!"

Fearless, he beamed harder at her.

"Yeaaahhh. You're not going to though, are you?"

Her bluff had been called. Cursing under her breath, she resigned herself back to her original position.

"... But I _could_, is what I'm saying."

"Ooooh! I'm terrified!"

"Go get me a drink, Potter."

He stood to attention and saluted her.

"Yes, M'am!"

* * *

Hours had passed since their victory. The party had died down on the whole, but the chaotic energy was still in the air. Cormac had fallen asleep on the carpet and was being used as a footrest for Hermione and Ginny, who were engaged in a tight and secretive conversation with Dom and Demelza. Ron's mood had indefinitely recovered from not being allowed to play - he, Dean, Katie and Tracey were still the life of the party, loud in the center of the room.

Other nameless faces dipped in and out of the crowd, ones Harry knew he should have acknowledged and made conversation with, but he was more distracted by the worrying fact he had completely lost track of Daphne. They'd separated for an hour or so to talk to other people, and now after carefully scanning the room, he was one-hundred percent sure she was no longer here with them. He had been positioned near the common room door, meaning there was no way she could have left without noticing him.

"Have you guys seen Daphne?"

He appeared over the shoulders of the girls around the fire, who quickly shushed their private conversation.

"I think she went to the bathroom, Harry," Ginny answered.

"Arry! Come zit down with us!" Dom cheered, making a move to grab him.

Harry, who found it difficult to think anything of Dom that wasn't the awkward encounter they shared at Slughorn's party, avoided her grip. He then left the area, and mumbled something like an apology in his wake. It was only now he crossed the room he truly appreciated how much he must have had to drink. He never used to drink this much, did he? Since meeting Daphne, alcohol had just kept finding its way to him these days.

He must have zoned out for a second, because he came to and found Tracey inches from his face, he jumped back in surprise.

"What'd she say?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

The question and tone it was asked in took him off guard. He blinked before answering.

"What?"

She gestured vaguely to the group of girls by the fireplace. Which one of his poor housemates did Tracey have her sights on?

"Dom. What'd she say? Anythin' about anyone?"

"No… why?"

"Been mad about her since Fourth Year. I'm gonna ask her out. Her voice just _does _things to me and she's so pretty. I don't know if I want her or want to _be _her... Hey, how'd you ask Daphne out?"

That was a lot of information to process and apparently, the time it took to do so was too long for her.

"Daphne Greengrass?" she retried. "The blondy with big tattas? Eyebrows to puncture the hull of a starship? You _really _should know her by now."

She pointed to her hair, chest and eyebrows in order. Harry didn't know quite where to look.

"No, I know, I… I'm not sure?"

He paused to swallow and formulate a better answer.

"I don't think we really got to ask each other out, it just kind of happened with time... We agreed to give it a try, but that was kind of a mutual agreement, nobody really _asked _anybody."

It then occurred quite why they were having this conversation, and his eyes leapt quickly followed her swaying finger, and couldn't help the rather awkward interaction he had overheard in Hogsmeade creep into his mind.

"Is she…? You know? Does she like...?"

The drunken enthusiasm seemed to fade from her face, and was replaced more with a look of forced determination, one that Harry recognised from Hermione.

"Well, technically, no, but…" she sighed pedantically. "Half the fun is the chase! You know what they say about spaghetti!"

Harry did not know what they said about spaghetti, nor did he particularly want to.

"I'm... not sure how _ethical… _that is…"

Tracey didn't seem to hear his concern and blundered on, regardless.

"I just need to know the right way to go about it! If she just gives me a chance I can make her happy. I know I can. I think…"

She pushed air from her lungs and he saw a similar grimace overtake her that was similar to what she wore on the Quidditch Pitch. He understood at once that this was no simple crush - but that she was deadly serious about it. The most serious he had ever seen her. That, perhaps, made things worse.

"I genuinely think she might be the one," she said with an air of finality, and he did not feel like arguing.

Try as he might, when he said his next words, he felt like he was condemning somebody to death.

"Then I _guess… _if you're going to work in a relationship, then… Well, they have to like you for you, right? So just be yourself."

Expected, Tracey rolled her eyes pedantically.

"That is the _most _cliche advice…"

Talking more enthusiastically than was truthful, he pushed on.

"But it's true! If she's gonna want to be with you, she'll want to be with you for _you_. So, just ask her out however you think you should. Don't treat it like it's a big deal, you know?"

Her head clicked away from him, looking not unlike a dog who had just heard a distant noise.

"Yeah… Treat it like it's a big deal… yeah…"

Her words trailed away, then she returned to her determined look.

"Okay… I know what to do…"

With that, she stumbled away from him. Far too late, her words occurred to him.

"Wait, that's not what I said!"

At that moment, the nearby door to the girls dormitory clicked open and Daphne fell out, looking very drunk. Nadia stumbled out of the doorway behind her. Cut between going after Tracey or finally catching up to Daphne, he let his heart decide.

"There you are!" he announced.

The two girls supported each other as they moved closer.

"You know the girls in this house all share the same dormitory!? Like first years!?" Daphne said outrageously.

Nadia then stuck her finger very hard into Daphne's chest.

"And _they _get their own dormitories? While we have to share like peasants? What the!?"

"I wondered where you had gone!"

Nadia carried on past them to join the expanding gaggle of girls by the fireplace, and Daphne joined him, coming to a stop with her hand on his hip. He was impressed - that was the first time he had seen Daphne touch another person who was not of her exclusive, tightly knit group of friends.

"I was going to the tothroom and Nadia offered to show me around."

"The _tothroom_?" he smiled.

"I was going to say bathroom… but then changed it to toilet half way, and it was too late. So, now it's the tothroom."

Clearly sensing his on-coming smile, she then stuck a very angry finger at him.

"If you disagree then I'm givinging you detention!"

She gave his hip a squeeze, which was apparently a sensitive area for him, as he wiggled quite suddenly out of her grasp.

Looking at her now, with the background images and voices blurring in and out of existence, he really found it difficult to think of anything else. When in this room, her existence in his life used to be only as a guilty secret. But now, one year on, to have their relationship open and on display in front of so many… Maybe it was the alcohol in his head, but he really couldn't have asked for a better life.

He was living in the world where this girl - this beautiful, temptress - was his and only his. This pure-blood queen fancied his blood-traitor, muggle-born upbringing ass. More than that, she loved him. She was _in love _with him.

The Gryffindor pride around him be damned, the only thing in his world now was Daphne's soft, Slytherin lips.

"What're we talking about?"

He had to physically shake his head to bring him back to reality. He gestured vaguely at the group of girls, of whom Tracey had now joined.

"Oh, she's er… she's trying to ask Dom out."

Just like that, the happy-go-lucky expression he was just starting to get used to seeing on her face was replaced by the icy sharpness she had come to be known for.

"For the _love_ of Azathoth…"

With Ron and Dean's singing still filling their ears, it was impossible to make out what was being said. But there was absolutely no mistaking what was happening, as Tracey and Dom spoke importantly about something, then Dom pulled back very abruptly.

"Aw no…"

"Oh dear…"

Tracey tried again, moving to reseal the gap. Then for a brief moment, the boy's singing was drowned out as it was replaced by a gasp from all of the girls, as Dom roughly pushed her away. He looked away from the scene, embarrassed. Daphne did no such thing, and almost looked like she was getting some morbid joy from it. From the corner of his vision, he saw Dom storm out the common room.

Beside him, Daphne gave a haunting chuckled.

"You should have told her whatever it was you did to me in Professor Snape's classroom that one time... That'd be enough to turn any girl gay."

Despite the remnants of the party still alive around them, there was startling stillness as Tracey remained frozen for a few moments, then brought herself slowly back to where he was standing.

The first thing he saw was the big glowing orbs in her eyes.

"It… it... wasn't like spaghetti."

The gathering in her eyes broke and tears began to spill freely onto her cheek. Her head dropped suddenly so that her thick brown hair hide her face - Harry did not feel it was his place to embrace her, so settled for a brotherly hand on the shoulder. Daphne, meanwhile, simply crossed her arms. He frowned at her.

"_Say something!" _he whispered harshly.

She looked between him and Tracey expectantly.

"_Like what?"_

"_I don't know! Anything!"_

Considering the concern he had seen her have for Astoria not a week before, he was shocked to see her so on the sidelines about comforting Tracey. It suddenly made it difficult to feel the same love for her he was feeling moments ago.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she cocked a hip.

"I've said it before. You don't want anything to do with Dominique, Tracey. It was for the best."

"Oh, not this again..." she mumbled, turning away.

"No, I'm not just-"

But Tracey's head shot up suddenly, absolute fury written on her face.

"Daphne, look, I _know _you don't like her, but you said it yourself that's _your _fault and not hers!"

Harry's hand dropped from the sudden outburst. Daphne looked like she'd just been slapped.

"She rejected you, didn't she?" she shot back.

"That's not 'cause she's a bad person! It's 'cause she's just not into girls!"

Her exploding at Tracey was normal - bog-standard at this point, actually, but he'd never seen the opposite. It also marked quite possibly the first time he'd heard her use Daphne's abbreviated name.

Daphne then made a noise - the kind Harry had trained himself to duck when he heard. Before he was able to step in, her grimace descended on her

"Tracey, listen to me, right now - Dominique Flamel is a gold digger."

Whatever she had been expecting to hear, it hadn't been that.

"You what?"

"Oh, come on! It's obvious!" she barked. "Why do you think she was so determined on being Harry's date for Horace's party? She knew he was a celebrity and wanted to get close to him! The whole quiet and unassuming thing is just an act - she's from a rich family, of course she had taste for the finer things! She's a _gold chaser_, Tracey. She doesn't _not _like you because you're a girl, she doesn't _like you_ because you live on a council estate and shoplift! It's for the same reason why I saw her and Draco together!"

His head turned so quickly, he was sure something cracked.

"Malfoy?" he repeated.

She looked him up and down confused, then put two and two together.

"Oh, they weren't _doing _anything, but her intentions were obvious. She wanted his-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

The party died. More and more had been falling quiet as the rising argument raged, but Tracey's shout succeeded in killing off any remnants of it. Portrait or student, there was now not a conscious eye that wasn't directed at them.

Daphne looked, for the first time, out of her depth.

"I _beg _your pardon!?"

"She's done nothin' to you!" Tracey shouted, taking a step closer to her. "She's kind and nice and… and not capable of any of that! I really like her and I want to be with her - I've been nothin' but supportive of you and Harry, can't you just _try _and do the same for me!? Just once!? Can you please be supportive of me and stop constantly shittin' over everythin' that I do!?"

"It's not a matter of not being happy-"

She stuck a finger in Daphne's face.

"Shut up! I have _always _been there for you! Through thick and thin! Even when the entire castle hated your guts, I was there! And not once have you _ever _been there for me!"

"I invited you to Horace's party!"

Though he had no desire to get caught in the clashing egos, Harry was slowly trying to inch himself between the two. He had his shoulder in front of Tracey just enough to hold her back, but she was still pushing to get closer to Daphne.

"That's supposed to make it _okay_?" she barked a laugh."One nice thing in a lifetime of constantly shittin' on me and now you're a saint? Piss off! You're just jealous the attention isn't on you for once! You shit on me while I'm down just to make yourself feel smart, well, I don't care! I don't care if you told me so! I don't care because I am sick to _death _of you usin' me just to make yourself feel better!"

Daphne, whose face was steadily turning red, either from embarrassment or fury, opened her mouth, but was silenced.

"NO! SHUT UP! THIS IS MY PARTY, DAPHNE! I'M THE QUEEN TONIGHT, NOT YOU!"

In his pocket, Harry had a tight grip of his wand. Across the room, Hermione and Ginny looked equally ready to jump in.

But the explosion never came. Daphne's face was as red as he'd seen it, nostrils flared, eyebrows arched, but just when he thought she was about to shout, she deflated back into her hardened persona.

"Right, then. I can see my presence here is not wanted... Goodnight, Harry. Tracey."

Impossibly calm, she then made an abrupt beeline for the portrait hole. He tried reaching out to stop her.

"I'll come with you!"

She avoided him easily.

"No. I am going to bed. We need to be up in a few hours. Send Tracey down when you can... once she's decided to stop her tantrum."

By the time she mumbled the last part, she was already safely through the portrait hole, and thus out of range of Tracey wheeling viciously around to shout after her.

"I'LL SHOW YOU TANTRUM!"

The quiet didn't last long after this, however. Apparently arguments were the due standard for drunk parties, and the noise quickly resumed again. For Harry, who could see the tattered remains of a life-long friendship in front of him, the idea of going back to enjoying himself now felt outright immoral.

A low, shuddering gasp came from next to him. Tracey slumped herself down in one of the armchairs. He caught a glimpse of her eyes welling with tears before she covered them with her hands.

"God... what have I done?"

He seated himself on the footstool opposite.

"You didn't need to explode at her like that."

"No, I know."

She made a noise somewhere between a grunt and sigh, then held out her hand.

"Get me a drink?"

Not feeling like more alcohol was the solution, he quickly summoned a glass of water to their side and gave it to her.

She took a few swigs before saying anything.

"... cannot _believe _I just blew that..."

"You guys have had fights before… You were both drunk, I'm sure you'll be able to work it out in the morning. After you _both _apologise."

But she looked at him as though he'd spoken to her in a different language.

"I meant Dom."

"Oh…"

That didn't line up, did it? Surely she should have been far more concerned about making up with Daphne than her chances dating? Then again, he tried to put himself in her situation. He wouldn't be able to decide between Daphne or Ron, but if it was the same circumstances, between potentially having a repairable fallout with Ron, or losing Daphne forever, he admitted he too would have to put his efforts into preventing the latter.

Even with a relationship as strained and confusing as theirs, something about the attitudes they displayed towards each other tonight didn't sit right with him. Did family maybe mean something different in Slytherin than it did Gryffindor?

"I really like her, Harry."

Suddenly feeling a pang of sympathy for her, he decided his best efforts would be to try and improve Tracey's mood. Whether or not her priorities were in the right place, it couldn't be ignored that she had lost a lot tonight.

"Come on, let's go somewhere private."

He brought them both up from the armchair and began to shuffle them towards the stairs. With most of the lads down here, that should make the boys dorm relatively abandoned. Glancing across the room, he saw Hermione staring curiously at them. He gave her a quick and reassuring shake of the head, then continued their own way.

She must have been more drunk than outwardly letting on, because the mission of wrestling her up the stairs was not an easy one. Shorter than even Daphne was, she was able to tuck herself neatly under his arm. By the time they finally reached the door to the boys dorm, he had both hands on her.

"Right, stay quiet. Neville is already asleep."

He pointed her in the right direction and simply let go. She thundered herself forward, flopping onto his bed.

Suddenly, the unmistakable and painful sound of snapping wood reverberated through the dormitory. It was a noise known to absolutely churn the stomach of any witch or wizard. Even though she lay absolutely motionless on his bed, he imagined Tracey was experiencing the same feeling of sheer terror that he was.

"Stand up!"

She remained solid, and when she did talk, it was muffled into his pillow.

"_Ah can't."_

He edged his way slowly closer to her.

"... It might not be _that _bad?"

Slowly and surely, she arched her back, tucking her knees below herself so she sat cross-legged in the centre of his bed. He brought himself cautiously next to her. In what almost seemed like slow motion, she brought her hand inside the borrowed, scarlet Quidditch jumper she wore and pulled out two halves of a snapped wand. Though the wood was shattered and splintered down the middle, a dried up dragon heart string kept the pieces vaguely hung together.

All in all, it was a pathetic sight, and an utterly heart wrenching one for any magical person to experience. There was a clatter as the wand fell uselessly to the floor and Tracey gave a wretched sob. She collapsed forward, falling into Harry arms as the tears began to flow freely.

Harry felt awkward in his own skin. Nonetheless, the pathetic state next to him brought his heart to override his brain. He steadily brought his arm over her shoulder in the most comforting, brotherly-way he could manage. She took his arm as though it were a blanket, squeezing herself tightly into him, as if she was trying to get inside his chest.

"Anything else I need to lose tonight?" she asked with mock joy. She spoke cheerfully, but it was a very different kind of happiness she usually displayed.

"You'll be fine," he tried, stroking her hat. "Just… try and get some sleep?"

"I'm not _that _drunk, yanno."

He smiled sadly.

"Can't imagine staying up will help, though?"

She nuzzled deeper into him. He breath was very warm on him, it sent guilty tingles up his spine.

"I just want what you guys have…" she mumbled. "You're so happy when you're both together and you help each other so much... I want someone I can rely on like that. You're both just too good… Even after all that and breaking my wand, you're here. Nobody else is here. But you are…"

She brought her face up while talking, so now they were only inches apart.

"Why did Daphne have to get you? You're too good for her. She's a bitch… I'm nice, I've always been nice… What does she have that I don't?"

He gave her an uneasy smile.

"It's not like that… you're great, too. With me and Daphne, it just… it just worked. You'll get someone nice too, someday. Happiness comes as easy as you let it."

Apparently, this had not been the right thing to say, because a couple seconds after that, she pushed forward suddenly and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. It had brushed the corner of his lips, but that was entirely down to him avoiding her movement.

"What're you doing?"

He'd be stupid not to know what she'd tried. Unmistakably, she had just gone to kiss him and he'd avoided it - it just felt right to vocally establish his protest. Feigning ignorance seemed a plausible escape solution. Maybe by playing innocent, the rising problem in his pants would go away?

Then, in a way he'd never seen from her before, she giggled and buried her red face into his shoulder. It was outright unnatural seeing her act girly.

"Sorry…"

But there was no going back now.

A rising clash of emotions made itself known inside him. He feared it from the second they entered the dormitory; he sensed things turning this way on an almost subconscious level. He could have turned her away at any point and it was wrong of him not to do so sooner. Continuing not to now was more than simple carelessness. And, though he had protested and faked ignorance, he had allowed things to get to this point.

That lingering, shameful urge he used to get was back. Images of the potions classroom all that time ago flashed in his head. Now though, Tracey had replaced Daphne as the object of his desire. It felt wrong. It felt unnatural. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, was it?

"Harry..."

She leaned forward, aggressively this time, and sealed them together. For a second, he was too stunned to move. Her lips were soft and warm, but also wet with salted tears. His eyes grew wide with horror.

She was kissing him. He was not only breaking probably a hundred school rules even inviting a girl into the boys dormitory, but for the girl kissing him not to even be his girlfriend, but his girlfriends _sister_, made him feel possibly the worst he ever had done in his life. Yes, she was drunk, upset and probably didn't know what she was doing, but she was still doing it. And he was still _letting _her do it.

But, it was different to how Daphne had kissed him the first time. Then, his body was in control, pushing him in one direction, but this time his mind, and more importantly, his heart, was fought back with infinitely more power.

Regaining the control he had lost, he brought himself from the bed quickly.

"_Don't_ do that!"

She looked surprised by his sudden outburst. Clearly, she had been planning things going the other way. What was all of this? What really were her intentions? Was he just a rebound after being rejected by the girl she liked? Or was this her way at getting back at Daphne? By trying to sleep with her boyfriend? Whatever the reason, he definitely didn't think this was all because she harboured some deep crush on him.

She blinked a number of times, her mouth still open from where she'd kissed him, and struggling to put together a response.

"S-sorry…"

She spoke in the most pathetic, un-Tracey-like tone he had ever heard.

"... I'm just… and… a-and you're so _nice _to Daffy… I want someone to be nice to me too… ?"

At the mention of her name, his conscience suddenly reared and any misplaced morals were back with force.

"Yeah, you _are _drunk!" he spat nastily. "Now go to sleep! _Don't_ try that again."

He moved to start pulling the bed curtains shut around her. She protested, apologising, and as he went to pull the final one closed, gave him a truly broken hearted stare through the curtain.

"Please, don't leave me…."

He dragged the curtain shut with more force than he should have done.

His head was that much of a rush of emotions, he didn't even register Hermione as she called out to him upon reentering the common room.

Tonight may have potentially ruined everything good he had been building towards, but at the very least, he was comfortable with _his_ decision. If he needed any more proof he wasn't a bad person, now it was simple. He turned her down in a way he hadn't done with Daphne. Cheating on Cho was a fluke - not in his nature. His morals were in place.

He did the right thing, and that was _exactly _what he would be telling Daphne tomorrow. He didn't care how sad or drunk Tracey was feeling, he would not allow her to ruin the good thing they had going now.

* * *

_A/N Last hurdle now. Chapter 40 will be the final._


	37. In Noctem

As Daphne traversed the familiar path she took to the Great Hall that morning, it couldn't be ignored that there was a certain level of greyness over the castle. She struggled to keep up any of the enthusiasm of last night. Her eyes hurt, though she hadn't been crying. All the joy and celebration of yesterday had been nullified, and thus rendered soured in her head. It was as though she had met a wonderful new friend of whom she had clicked instantly, only to then find out that person had been a hired actor.

Tracey hadn't turned up to apologise the morning after. That, in itself, was worrying. Usually after their spats, she would go out of her way to be annoying until Daphne either relented and they forgot about it, or… No, actually. That was exactly how it usually went. But not this time. Afraid she would oversleep after getting in so late, Daphne set her alarm clock earlier than necessary. Which ironically, just meant she was up and about earlier than usual. She was up and dressed before the morning sun started to shine through the black lake - and not a single soul had passed through the common room. This meant Tracey was either passed out, or otherwise still partying. Or alternatively, the option Daphne was trying to ignore, was that some kind of irreparable damage had been done to their friendship.

It was an unusual feeling, this one. She had done nothing wrong last night - she knew this. She had said nothing that wasn't exactly what Tracey had needed to hear at that moment. But, whether her actions were justified or not, Tracey's night had been spoiled. Not entirely by her, but their argument would definitely have contributed. To have gone from such a high to such a low in such a short amount of time would affect anyone negatively.

So, rather begrudgingly, Daphne came to the slow realization that, though she may not have acted incorrectly, she definitely didn't act with what one would say... good taste.

It wasn't until Professor Flitwicks Charms lesson that she saw Tracey for the first time that day. She had barged in twenty minutes late and to an eruption of giggles. As the scandalised laughter and wolf whistles sounded around her, Daphne averted her eyes with second hand shame.

"Sorry, Professor. Won't happen again," she apologised, deliberately not looking around the rest of the room.

Professor Flitwick considered her carefully.

"I know you often seem to think the dress code does not apply to you, Miss Davis, but at least _pretend _to care. Take your seat. We're on page sixty-hundred and sixty-six."

Tracey often wore boys pants instead of the skirt expected of girls - there was a poorly written rule in the dress code that allowed this. She wore the same today, the only difference being, the colour. She was wearing Gryffindors colours, and with how oversized the robes looked on her, it was unmistakable where she had come from and what she had been doing the night before.

Daphne suddenly felt a lot less ready to apologise.

Whatever feelings of regret she had been having were soon beginning to repair themselves. To think she had woken up, concerned and worried about the future of their relationship, while Tracey had been off without a care in the world. She actually thought that their argument had been something significant, there was even a small part of her that was impressed. But no. It had just been part of Tracey's bog-standard drunk rampling, and after she'd left she had carried on unphased, right into the bed of some poor Gryffindor.

As they exited out of the classroom for break between, she found Tracey waiting by the door.

"Daphne, I -"

"_Whose_ uniform is that?"

She went quiet - unusually so.

"I didn't sleep with anyone… promise…"

There was an unmistakable air about her that she was in pain someway - naturally Daphne chalked this up to a hangover, which then made her feel considerably better about her decision to leave the party early.

"I slept in, then didn't have anythin' to wear, I haven't been back to the dungeons…"

That didn't strike as true. The Gryffindor uniform was too large for her, if she was just lending clothes then she probably could have found a better size.

"You're a disgrace."

She sank a little further into her shoulders, looking like a child scorned. At least she wasn't fighting back, Daphne thought. A moment passed where as she watched her bring the tip of her foot awkwardly around on the floor in front of her.

"Can we... have a chat, please?"

Daphje made a gesture, the kind that invited her to go on.

"Not here. Somewhere quiet. It's important."

She groaned.

"What did you do?"

Tracey inflated suddenly, snapping back to her full size.

"Nothin'! Look - Daffy - please. Just come sit down with me."

She shook her head.

"I have to supervise a mock exam for the second years."

Tracey went quiet again.

Careful, Daphne watched her. This was quite unlike the usual behaviour expected from her. Even when she'd done something unapologetic bastardish, she always seemed proud of her actions. Tracey had integrity that rivalled her own - which made seeing her like this quite disconcerting. It made her a little more reasonable than she usually would have been.

They took off together, Daphne leading the way.

"I have a free period after that. I'm supposed to be studying, though. What do you want to talk about?"

She specifically avoided her eyes when she asked this, and gave no answer. Something was definitely up. Daphne looked around for a plan of escape. She was never the one that had to lead the conversation around Tracey before, and this was rapidly turning awkward.

Thinking back to the lesson preceeding them, a thought occurred to her.

"What happened to your wand?"

If she was looking to improve her mood, then this had not been the question to ask. But it at least got an answer, this time.

"Sat on it."

She produced two bits of wood from her pocket, barely held together by the stem in the middle.

"You can't use that for lesson. It's a health and safety hazard. I'm surprised Professor Flitwick didn't confiscate it immediately, he mustn't have seen it."

She shrugged back uselessly.

"I need a wand for my N.E.W.T's and don't have money to get it fixed."

With an exciting surge of joy, things clicked together in her head. An idea had popped into Daphnes mind. This way, she couls simultaneously ease her guilty conscience, help Tracey out and while satisfying her stubbornness over not apologising. Tracey would have no leg to stand on against her - it was the perfect solution to their overhanging problem.

"What do you have next?"

"Free period. Why?"

"After my sit in, I can ask Professor Snape if we can get permission to visit Diagon Alley this evening. We'll go Olivanders and replace it."

More miserable still, Tracey shook her head at this. Daphne had only ever seen her this bad once beforehand, that day spent by the lake.

"I don't have the galleons to spare. Literally - I'm completely skint. I could ask mum, but I'm probably better off than she is right now..."

She turned her nose up at the thought. With her mothers heart, she would absolutely offer to pay full price for a new wand for one of her daughters. That made the resolve of her decision even more certain - now she was helping out two family members with the one gesture.

"I can lend you the money. Don't tell anybody - and I'll need it back in time."

"Daphne, you can't."

She cooked a brow.

"Not like you to be ostentatious?"

"No, seriously, Daffy. I appreciate it, but… but I can't…"

"Well, you're going to have to ask Mummy for the money then."

Tracey looked like she could have punched her. She puffed her cheeks out aggressively, then concided, looking close to tears.

"You… you don't understand…"

She blinked away the rising wateryness in her eyes.

"Daphne, you're a life saver. I don't deserve this. Thank you."

* * *

"Did Snape look alright to you?"

"No. Not that he ever does."

It was true that Professor Snape had been looking more and more sickly recently, but today had been something new. She didn't spare the concern - he had finally taken the hint and stopped harassing her, so she was fine with whatever was going on with him.

"Let's make this quick."

She knew the risks involved that came with leaving the castle now. But this was only going to be a short in-and-out adventure, twenty minutes at most. Definitely not worth bothering the entire Order of the Phoenix over.

Though she rarely visited the Leaky Cauldron, she certainly knew it wasn't supposed to be like this. It was near completely empty - save for four people. There was a busty blond woman polishing glasses, a miserable looking witch sat at the bar that Daphne vaguely recognised and then thr two of them, looking out of place in their school uniforms. The barmaid looked their way hopefully, but Daphne cut her off before she could speak.

"Just using the floo, thank you."

The landlady nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses.

"Could we not have a drink, Daffy? Quick one?"

"Absolutely not."

"I really have something I need to talk to you about."

"It can wait."

Daphne led the way and Tracey followed her out into the chilly cobble-stone street. They paused to look around, and saw how drastically Diagon Alley had changed. The normally colourful, glittering windows of spell books, magical creatures and cauldrons were now lost to view, hidden behind boarded up windows and large Ministry of Magic posters. Most of the posters were Ministry-approved security advice, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of known Death Eaters. She tried to watch her feet as they moved, only glancing up to check they were heading in the right direction. She felt exposed as it was - never mind having the faces of Bellatrix Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew and Merula Snyde all sneering back at her.

She noticed many of the people who passed them had the same hurried, anxious look, and that nobody was lingering; shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. There was not a single person who seemed to be shopping alone.

The further they drew away from the Leaky Cauldron, the more Daphne's head appeared to be waking up. There was now something on the tip of her tongue that was very important she needed to remember. Her insistance over this grew so much, by the time they had arrived at Olivanders, she had almost walked straight past it.

"That's not Mister Olivander," she mumbled, catching the glimpse of a ginger haired woman through a gap in the stained glass.

"He went missin' didn't he?"

"Did he?"

Tracey nodded, a faint sadness on her face.

"You-Know-Who. Was all over the Daily Prophet early this year, did you not see it?"

Sorry, she shook her head.

"I try to avoid the Prophet these days."

Looking the place up and down, as if trying to find some mental fault with it now, it was a few seconds before they decided to move in.

As the bell announced their arrival, the ginger-haired witch moved to them.

"Hello dearies! How can I help you? Or just looking?"

After nodding to Daphne, almost like she was asking permission, Tracey unceremoniously placed her wand on the counter, where the wandsmith tutted loudly at the pathetic sight of it.

"Dear-dear. What has the poor thing been up to?"

She had hardened up for the journey, but now looked close to tears again.

"Left it in my pocket and sat down."

She tutted even louder.

"I keep saying it! They need to teach proper wand storage in Hogwarts! Honest to goodness! You're the fifth one I've had in this month!"

Then she notice Daphne, and gestured vaugely to the cornee.

"You can take a seat in the corner over there dear, if you're just waiting. Now, Miss Davis, tell me the specs on this."

Daphne moved where she was directed, but stopped halfway to the chair. That nagging something in the back of her head pulled her against it. Unsure, she wobbled on the spot for a second, before turning to the exit.

"I'll wait outside, thank you."

She felt immediately on the cusp of a sudden realisation, yet no matter how much she considered it, she simply could not pin-point the origin of her feeling. She looked up the street, the way they had came. There had to have been something she had seen, something she had smelt, or maybe something that reminded her of something else. Something had to have triggered this empithany. Mentally, she retraced her steps, back up the cobble street, past the wanted posters, back into the Leaky Cauldron, and then…

With a silent gasp, her breathing began to pick up pace.

She had to be mistaken, surely? Had to have been seeing things. There was no way, was there? The chances of that were practically zero to none. But if they weren't… if she was not mistaken...

There was a chime behind her as Tracey exited the store.

"She says I can have a new one immediately, or wait like half an hour and she can repair it? Repairing will be cheaper, but it'll also take longer..."

Daphne wasn't listening. She brought the hessian bag from her robe pocket and pushed it her way.

"I'll be back."

She had to be sure. It was stupid - there wasn't a chance of it, she knew. And even if she was right, then it would only cause more trouble than it was worth. But she had to know. She _had_ to know.

Re-entering the Leaky Cauldron, she again caught the attention of the bar-lady, who deflated at seeing her again. The only other occupant in the room didn't look her way, however. Daphne moved closer to the solem-looking witch at the bar, her heart racing. The dyed section in her hair was unmistakable.

"... Merula?"

The witch jumped. She glared at her, Daphne instantly melted under those violet-red eyes.

"Oh… you."

Merula Snyde cursed her, looked around, then gestured at the bar stoll beside her.

"Sit down and shut up."

The lady land came over to them and took Merulas empty glass, then gestured back at the bar.

"Another one, Lily?"

Surprising Daphne, Merula nodded to this.

"Fire whiskey. One for the kid, too."

She moved away from them, buising about preparing their drinks. That left a sudden large amount of pressure of Daphne to say something. The unbelievability of the situation had left her lost for words.

Thankfully, and not for the first time, Merula saved her from this.

"How'd you find me?"

"I was just passing through, I… I…"

It was just beginning to catch her up that she was now in the presence of a Death Eater. She had been so eager for closure it had completely escaped her the danger she had just put herself in. There was no of Dumbledores promised protection for her here, how could she have been such a blithering idiot?

When the landlady returned with their drinks, she took an important sip. The whiskey burned her throat as it went down - it certainly was no Ramiel-Pure.

"That's for saving my life."

Daphne nodded her thanks, trying to keep herself from coughing

"I'm... sorry. Sorry I had to leave you," she tried. "The Aurors were coming a-and I only just got you to the hospita-"

"Keep your voice down! Idiot!"

Merula hissed at her, her eyes shooting to the landlady, who was now a good distance away up the bar.

"Stop whining. I get it. Don't suppose you got my wand on you?"

"It's in my dormitory. It's safe - I can send an owl with it?"

She turned her nose up in a sneer, like she'd just understood a joke that was beyond her.

"Don't bother... Tell me what happened. Everything."

Keeping her eyes out for the land lady, and for any new customers, Daphne explained. As she dove into the story, this time at an appropriate level, she was able to calm her nerves enough to talk frankly and free. She caught Merula up on everything, starting with her accidental splinching, her fight with the Aurors, their escape down the gully and then into Salford Royal Hospital. She skipped out the part about her mother, not feeling particularly eager to recount the events.

When she finished her story, Merula was quiet for a long time before speaking. Daphne hung on her response, seeking approval.

After a while passed, it became obvious Merula didnt plan on responding to this at all. She was a difficult person to read, so Daphne didnt know if this was a good or bad thing. Giving into her curiosity, she decided to provide the followup instead.

"How did you get out?"

She took another deep swig of the fire whiskey - how she was able to gulp that much in one go was beyond her.

"Without a wand... it wasn't easy. I had help, though."

"Professor Snape says they couldn't find you."

A low cackling laugh escaped Merula's chest - one that for a second, made her resemble Tracey.

"They still haven't."

That wording flew right over her head. She perked a quizzical brow.

"What does that mean?"

Unfortunately, it qas only after saying this she realizied it was absolutely not the right thing to say. A Death Eaters business was a Death Eaters business, and she had no desire to know anything that would make her an accomplice. It had just slipped out - despite her rather intimidating eyes, Merula didn't have the air about her a usual Death Eater had. She was a lot more approachable, Daphne couldn't explain it, she just felt better in her presence than she did the others. She would probably take Merula over her father now, come to think of it.

The coming storm brewed, and rather abruptly, Merula hissed a question at her.

"Whose side are you on, kid?"

She took a very intentional deep swig. The burning sensation in her stomach was worth it to give her the extra time to figure out how she wanted to play this.

Just where exactly did she stand with Merula? They had formed a truce the night of the attack, but Daphne couldnt consider that was still applicable now. But not only did Merula not act like a normal Death Eater, the more she thought about it, the more her actions didn't add up either. Professor Snape had specifically said they hadn't managed to find Merula, yet here she was now out in the broad open. It surely wouldn't have been difficult for her to find the Death Eaters again… unless, perhaps she didn't want to be relocated by them?

Was there a chance Daphne would was staring at someone in a similiar situation to the one she was in?She knew needed to answer at once, so she gave the most honest answer that occurred to her.

"My own. Why?"

Merula smirked devilishly.

"Good answer. Best answer you can give. You're like me. You pretend, don't you?"

She kept quiet, not wanting just put all her cards on deck. Merula waited, then continued.

"Listen to me - Daphne Greengrass. I'm going to give you the best advice someone like us can hear. It's something I definitely could have done with hearing when I was your age. Its important to stay true to who you _are_. It doesn't matter what you _want _to be, or who others _think _you are, reality is the only thing that's real. Sins and all. It isn't worth pushing others away for some delusion of superiority."

Fear began to swell inside her like a venomous bubble. That _was_ exactly the kind of advice she had been needing to hear - but it did not elate her. Instead, her hand tightened her hand over the wand in her sleeve. That all sounded far too accurate for Merula to not know more about her than she was letting on.

Merula's eyes flickered down at her, noticing this.

"Good girl."

Their intense eye contact hung in the air for a moment. Then, it was shattered, by a gentle pat on Daphne's shoulder, startling her.

"Done, Daffy! It's fixed and I got your change - listen this is _really _important, can we sit down for a bit? I'll buy?"

Merulas head snapped away, hiding her face. Daphne lept to block her. Now noticing her, Tracey straightened up.

"Oh… sorry. Didn't realise you were... talkin' to someone…"

Her eyes narrowed intently. Daphne picked up her fire whiskey and quickly downing it in one, nearly vomiting in the process.

"Thank you for the drink, _Lily," _she gasped for breath. "I'll see you later."

But Tracey hadn't moved from her spot, and looked to be moving intentionally closer to Merula.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"No."

"Tracey, we're leaving."

Daphne snatched her by the hand and began to lead her, quite forcefully, back towards the fireplace. As they drew away, Merula shouted one last warning their way.

"The night is dark and full of terror, Daphne Greengrass! Don't make the same mistakes I did!"

"Who was that? How do you know her?"

"Shut up. It's not important."

"Did you see her hair?"

Daphne didn't wait to hear what she had to say. She pushed Tracey head-first into the fireplace, which erupted in a green light as she vanished. She stepped in next, felt the ever-familiar tingling sensation, and appeared back in the office of their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"Where's Snape?"

She didn't answer.

After emerging from the fire, a choking coldness had enveloped her. As her breaths became ragged and shallow, she moved them quickly from the room. The corridors were deserted and their echoey vastness felt as though they were closing in around her. Through the window, clouds twisted and darkened above them, brewing a powerful storm, yet there was not a hint of wind. The stillness over the ground was startling, in fact. Never before had the castle felt so empty, so dead.

Something was happening, she could sense it. This wasnt her anxiety playing tricks on her, there was something was wrong with Hogwarts.

"Daffy! Will you slow down!? What's going on? Who was that?"

She was breathless when she tried to answer. It strained her brain to put all the emotions and realisations she was suffering through into words.

"I can sense… _something_. A disturbance."

"What, in the force?"

"The f_orce_?" she repeated, ridiculously.

"Yanno, the force? It's what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all livin' things. Surrounds us and penetrates us..." Tracey gestured grandly around her. "It binds the galaxy together."

Though she had no idea what a Jedi was, she couldn't deny that indeed felt like an accurate description of what she was experiencing right now.

"Yes… then..." she muttered, "... there's been a disturbance in the force."

She and Tracey looked at each other. They didn't need to say anything, they both understood each other perfectly. The drunken drama of the night before couldn't have been further away now.

"What do we do?" Tracey asked asked her, hotly.

"Will you make sure Astoria is okay?"

Her face churned unpleasantly; Daphne knew what was coming before she opened her mouth.

"Sod that, I'm coming with you."

"Tracey, please? Just this once, for me? Find her and make sure she's safe? Protect her, if needs be?"

A pleading look took Traceys face.

"If there's danger, I'm not leaving you..."

"If there's danger…" she repeated, breathing quick. "Then there's nobody I trust more to look after her than you."

That was from the heart. Tracey was a powerful witch, she jusy lacked the skills to apply herself properly. She could hold her own in a fight, and she knew she was the only one she'd trust to handle Astoria. Tracey, it seemed, appeared to hear her mental plea. At once, a rare thing happened and Tracey Davis backed down. It was with an obvious discomfort, but clearly something inside had clicked, and she nodded.

"I won't let you down."

They began to move away from each other; Tracey towards the dungeons, Daphne into the void, wherever the ominous feeling was to drag her.

"Daffy?"

She turned for a final look at Tracey, who seemed unusually emotional again.

"Please... be careful."

They took off in opposite directions. She didn't know where she was going - she was chasing a feeling on a whim. It was similar to how she felt earlier, knowing she'd recognised Merula but not being able to place it, only infinitely more intense. It lead her to eighth floor, the only floor with no classrooms on. And it was similarly abandoned.

The feeling in her head increased the higher she got, until she came around the final corner, and finally saw the feeling for what it was. A lone figure stood at the end of a shadowy corridor. Even at this distance, she could recognise the silhouette. She recognised the feeling had at once - it had not been the behaviour of some ominous sixth sense, but rather the work of a skilled telepath.

"What is happening?" she demanded, announcing her presence.

The figure did not flinch. She came to its side, and saw a starling expression etched on the face of Severus Snape. He glanced at her - a pathetic look, like she was nothing more to him than a poor beggar on the street.

"When you first involved yourself in the prophecy…" he began, slowly. "I thought you were a fool. A hormonal child who couldn't leave well enough alone… but now I see the truth. I see that you and I are much the same. In the coming power vacuum, we must work together to seize whatever power we can. That is the only way we will survive what's to come. The Slytherin way is _not _living in secret."

She blinked.

What did he mean? What was happening? She could sense at once this was not mere theatrics, but a pivotal conversation she had been thrown into. As she tried to fight her confusion to respond, her Professor continued, and said words that made her stomach sink.

"The Dark Lord's forces have penetrated the castle."

Perhaps it was the emptiness of the castle getting to her, but she could have sworn the words echoed a number of times before quieting down.

How long had they been away? Had her comeuppance finally caught up to her? Was her father, at this very moment, leading a charge through the corridors towards her, blasting the killing curse at anything they came across? Where was Harry? Was he safe? Was he alright? If he knew Death Eaters were here, he would no doubt be charging towards them right now with his wand out. Would she be responsible for his death, by leading them here? What about Sirius, Tonks or Professor Dumbledore? Did they know? Were they currently sacrificing their own lives so that she might escape?

She wanted to, but struggled to draw her wand.

"How?" her voice shook. "W-what do we do? Where is Professor Dumbledore?"

Professor Snape gave a long, tired sigh, still manning his gaze across the grounds.

"We obey _the plan_. The plan is the only thing that matters…"

She frowned at him.

"The plan?"

He looked at her again - but different, this time. More intense, and there was revulsion and hatred in the lines of his face.

"The puppeteering of our _dear _Headmaster…" he scowled, "... not even _I _was made aware of the complexities of its design. I will play the role that has been given to me tonight, as will you. We will survive the chaos that is about to come, but the world that greets us on the other side will not be the same one. _Everything_ changes tonight."

Her role? What was changing? Though her mind was struggling to decipher his cryptic meaning, her heart had no problem understanding. She asked the question she prayed would never cross her lips.

"Are they here to kill Harry? Or are they for me?"

He shook his head once.

"That luxury of Harry Potter belongs to the Dark Lord and him only. You, my dear… your time has finally come. No longer content with allowing you to dance the line of injustice, you get the honour of delivering him tonight. _That _is the order he has given you. And it is on his orders I am delivering you this task."

The Professor ignored the moan of pain and shock she produced at hearing his words.

She had known this day would come eventually. Despite the attempts by all those she loved around her to convince her otherwise, no amount of protection could ever truly convince her she had ever been free of the Dark Lord's grasp. She knew the day would come where she was plunged right back into it - and she had known that day today from the second she stepped foot back into the castle.

Her eyes burned with tears as she shook her head.

"I won't do it. I will not betray Harry. Not after what he has done for me! I'm not a Death Eater! I'll die before I turn against him!"

Then, something happened that sent a shiver along her neck and down her spine.

"Did you ever wonder _what _exactly it was the Dark Lord was after in the Department of Mysteries?" he smirked cruelly.

The truth was - no. She had certainly wondered what Harry's prophecy had entailed, but it had simply never come up. It was her understanding that it had smashed before he'd been able to hear it - and otherwise, they tried to avoid discussing deeper topics whenever they had the chance.

"There was a prophecy written," he started. "It foretold that the Dark Lord would mark Harry Potter as his equal. Only he would have the power to vanquish him, so the Dark Lord deliberately set out to exterminate him as a baby. By failing to do so, he succeeded, however, in setting the prophecy into motion. Now, only they have the power to kill each other. Potter is the key to everything and as such, Dumbledore groomed him for that role."

Her hands were trembling - but she still could not find the power to grasp her wand. She did not attempt to argue with what she was being told. Oblivious to her ragged breaths, he continued.

"Your Headmaster, the _so-called_ greatest sorcerer who ever lived... Is behind everything. We are but pawns in his grand plan. He has been manipulating us all from the shadows since the beginning, as the puppet master often does. It is _his _scheme that the boy will die in the final battle."

Her knees collapsed and she thudded against the window ledge. Blinking away venomous tears, she fought for her words.

"He... has to die?"

Professors Snape's pale face, illuminated only by the darkening sky, was suffused with hatred.

"A piece of Voldemort lives within him, one that can only be killed by Voldemort himself. They are destined to share the same fate. Neither can live while the other survives, so they must die together."

Was this a nightmare? It had to be - this couldn't be happening. Everything was normal a few days ago. She couldn't accept what he was telling her.

The support she had on the wall failed her. Her hands slipped off the stonewall - her palms were dripping in sweat. She hit the floor, all her effort focusing on not vomiting.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She wanted to blast Severus Snape out of the window for creating such lies. She always believed - perhaps foolishly - that she and Harry could outlive the war if they were careful about it. But if he was destined to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord, that meant they had to tackle the war head-on, rather than trying to avoid it. That suddenly put all new connotations to their relationship. She would never abandon him, nor would she wouldn't sacrifice their relationship for everything. Which meant that she, as well as him, were destined to take on the Dark Lord.

She said - he had said - that they would work through this together. They would work through it together and then they would _be _together. They were supposed to have a future together. Get married, get a house and have children together. It had never been so much as said, but had been the future she'd been working towards.

Her swarming thoughts did nothing but tell her all these things she could have done to prevent this. The man she loved - the man she had planned to have a future with - was destined to die. Never to come back. To leave her to pick up the pieces alone, forever. What had she done wrong? What had changed? She had only one chance in this life and she had failed him. She would have to live with that guilt forever - he would not. Nothing in her life was worth more than him.

"That's not true…" she groaned.

Terror tore at her heart. Her body was reawakening - it was not magic holding her still, but sickness. Professor Snape had made no effort to help her as she collapsed and likewise, as she tried dragged herself to her feet, he offered no support.

"... I know Harry…" she continued, sickly, "I know he will not die that easy. That prophecy is _wrong_. The Order of the Phoenix can stop him! Professor Dumbledore can stop him!"

Professor Snape looked simply down at her, the little of his face that could be seen through shadow completely blank, emotionless.

"I'm going to ask you something, Greengrass. All pretences completely abandoned, I want nothing but the unadulterated, honest truth. Will you do that for me?"

Not seeing much other option, she noddes.

"Do you love the boy?"

She didn't even hesitate, and spoke the answer clearest to her.

"Always."

A look of sudden resolve formed on the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professors face.

"Then together, you and I can prevent it from happening."

She felt an icy sting in her stomach at the possibility. In the silence and the stillness, a terrified hope rose inside her.

"The mission the Dark Lord set for you tonight is to capture the boy, and ensure the Death Eaters safely escort him out of the castle. The mission that _I _am giving you… should you choose to accept it... is to keep him away from those who seek to harm him. Tonight, we are _deviating _from the plan. This may be our only chance to actually have an effect in this world."

She couldn't trust him, was the first thought that leapt to mind. But if there was even a hint of truth in the tale he had spun her tonight, if there was a chance Severus Snape truly _was _the only one on her side...

Daphne cleared her throat of it's panic.

"I will help you. Whatever it takes."

There it was. No compromise. No conditions. If there was a chance at changing their fate, she would take it. Whatever it took.

He nodded his head; his expression sure, but for the first time, a hint of fear flashing across it.

"Battles are going to break out. The boy will arrive at the Astronomy Tower in an hour's time; intercept him there and do whatever you can to protect him. He will try to intervene and help, but he mustn't be allowed. Whatever happens - whatever you may hear or see - it is imperative you both keep away. The Dark Lord has long expected your treachery, if your true allegiance is revealed then the Death Eaters have orders to execute you. Neither your father nor I will be able to prevent this."

"My father is coming?"

He did not answer this. Instead, he fixed her with a gaze. Again in a very short amount of time, she saw a look she could never have imagined on her long-time Professors face. The face of concern.

"The two of you _must _survive, do you understand? At any costs. Nothing else matters now," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

It happened at once. Her time wallowing in her misery was done. There was a plan now, there was hope. Now, rising at alarming speed within her, was the idea that if she could find Harry right now, find him before the Death Eaters did, then they still had a chance at reversing this fate.

Her eyes dried instantly, as if her tear ducts were sucking the liquid right back into her skull. She pushed herself the rest of the way up the wall and finally brought out her wand.

Nothing was going to stop her tonight. If she died, she would fall ensuring the safety of those she loved. She would die for the right reasons - so that others could live in her place. Tonight she would die a Gryffindor.

"I understand," she stated, then after a second, she raised an eyebrow, "... But... why? Why are you doing this?"

"I have my own reasons. Do not come after me."

With a mutual nod, the snakes shed their skin and parted ways.

* * *

\- Wakanda Forever -


	38. The Boy Who Loved

The smell of the sea breeze had gone. He and Dumbledore were now back in the astronomy tower, shivering and dripping in water. For one horrible moment, Harry's imagination thought some of the Inferi had rode along with them, until he blinked and saw the dark shapes around them were no more than Professor Sinstra's astronomy equipment. All was still, in fact, the darkness total, except for a faint green glow emanating from somewhere.

Dumbledore staggered against him. For a moment, he feared his inexpert Apparition had thrown him off balance; then he saw his face, paler and harder than ever in the distant green light. He glanced sideways at him, ready to grab him should he fall, but something seemed to have acted upon the Headmaster like a stimulant. He was staring, with determination, out the tower and at something beyond Harry's line of sight. They gently disengaged from one another, Harry leaving him leaning against the ramparts as he crossed to the balcony and looked out.

Sickening dread flooded him. His face was drained of the little colour left in it. Fear swelled inside him like a venom, compressing his lungs and driving all distractions and discomforts from his mind.

There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue - the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building, wherever they had murdered... They were here. In the castle. Probably walking its halls at this very moment. On their way to him, on their way to Dumbledore… or to Daphne. His stomach dropped a few inches; he swayed on the spot at the thought.

In the green glow from the mark, he saw Dumbledore muttering wearily, clutching at his chest with his blackened hand.

"Go and wake Severus," he said faintly, but clearly.

He hesitated. He had said he would obey, but leaving anyone in this state, never mind Dumbledore, was wrong. Death Eaters or no Death Eaters.

"Go," he repeated feebly. "Tell him what has happened. Bring him to me. Do nothing other than exactly that and speak to nobody else on your way. I shall wait here."

"But, sir, Madam Pomfrey - the Order - !"

Despite his feeble and weak form, Dumbledore's eyes were ablaze.

"I will be _fine_, Harry. Now do as I say... And trust me."

His met Dumbledore's eyes.

"Sir?"

"You swore to obey me, Harry — now go!"

His voice etched through the stillness and, against his better judgement, Harry forced himself to comply. He would do as he was told. Those were the terms he had agreed to.

But as he hurried across the room, tore back the iron ring of the door and thundered down the stairs, he knew it was wrong. He knew he was heading the wrong direction. His fight wasn't in the dungeons, with Snape, it was up here protecting Dumbledore. He _would_ do as he was told - find Snape - but he would do everything along his way to let as many people as possible know what was happening as possible. He would call for Sirius, for Tonks, for Mad-Eye, for Peeves, for anyone that would hear him.

Dumbledore bore this castle's protection. And now, while his life hung in the balance, that responsibility transferred to Harry. If Death Eaters were here in the castle, and of their three possible targets, Dumbledore, himself and Daphne, they were not going to stop at anyone coming between them. The fate of the castle rested on him, he was not going to let down the only home he had known.

Deep in his determination, Harry had not been expecting to run into somebody so quickly. He came out of the astronomy tower and reacted too late to avoid crashing face-first into a head of long, blonde hair. He cleared a few feet of air before hitting the marble floor painfully, having his unintended victim land just as messily next to him.

"Daphne!"

She was okay - minus being upside down on the corridor floor. She did not share his enthusiasm at seeing him, however. Her eyes bulged out their sockets and she looked as though a mother catching her son out of bed. Relief soaked his heart that she was okay, but he pushed to keep his orders at the forefront of his mind.

They leapt up.

"What were you doing up there?!"

"What? Just - where's Snape? Dumbledore needs him, it's urgent!"

She didn't answer. She looked like she was going to, but her face changed and she looked though she was fighting down the urge to shout, or to vomit. He hadn't slowed down enough for fear to occur to him, but if he had, he'd probably look in a similar state right now. She gulped and took several deep breaths, glaring at him.

A long second ticked. A pumping heartbeat was loud in his ears.

"Daphne?"

"This way. I'll show you."

He blinked, but she said nothing more. Just turned and, at speed, led him down the corridor. She mentioned she hadn't had a chance to exercise much this year, but even running at a mere jog she was easily quicker than him.

"Dumbledore is injured…" he said between pants of breath, "... we were searching for a Horcrux, we found it, but… Inferini… god, Daphne, that locket I gave you... and then… the Dark Mark… Was it Malfoy? What's _happening_, Daphne!?"

She mustn't have heard him.

The next corridor they crossed was in ruins; dust and shattered brick everywhere, half the ceiling fallen in - a battle had been raging here moments before. But as he tried to look for survivors, or figure out whose favour the fight had been in, Daphne rushed past down a different passageway.

"Wait!"

She didn't.

He rushed after her. Together, they sprinted toward the landing and down the remainder of the grand staircase. There was no destruction here, nor was the sign of any of their classmates coming out of their common rooms. That either meant the battle hadn't reached here yet, or it was only involving a limited number of people. Less involved meant less deaths - but also considerably weakened their chances of winning.

As they thundered down the staircase steps at a time, perhaps the most alarming thing was how irreversibly still the castle felt. He had seen the grand staircase at night multiple times before, but this wasn't that. This wasn't any mere night, this was death in the air. He should be in the midst of the battle right now, fighting to protect the only home he'd ever known. Together, he, Daphne, Sirius and Dumbledore together would be unstoppable - there wasn't a Death Eater in Voldemort's arsenal that could stand against them. But they were separated, divided and not at their full strength. For gods sake, where was Snape?

Somewhere in the depths of the castle he heard a muffled yell echo. Daphne stiffened and glanced over her shoulder, but said nothing. They both picked up their pace.

Reaching the end of the staircase, the oak doors of the entrance hall had been blasted open. There was what looked like smears of blood on the flagstones beyond. The giant Gryffindor hourglass had been hit by a curse, the rubies within were still falling, with a loud rattle, to the marble floor below. Daphne took off, not towards the dungeons like he had been expecting, but out into the courtyard. He hesitated, but scared of losing sight of her, followed.

"Where are we going?"

This wasn't right, he was starting to feel anxious. As he and Daphne ventured across the wooden bridge that led out into the grounds, the sounds of fighting were not getting louder, but dying out. They were getting further and further away from the battle. What was Snape doing out in the Hogwarts grounds?

"Where are we going?"

Still, she said nothing. She was listening to whatever was happening behind them, and still seemed terrified.

"What's Snape doing this far out?"

There was another yell from behind, rather louder than the last. Daphne looked nervously over her shoulder again, then back at him, and went on. Harry looked through the glass-less windows up again at the green skull, with its serpent's tongue glinting evilly above them. It was clearer now than ever out in the grounds.

As they reached the end of the wooden bridge, the silence lingering strictly over them, he lost confidence in his strides. His heart was pulling him too far in the other direction. Maybe she was right, maybe this was exactly where Snape was, but his anxiety had won it's battle with the blind faith he entrusted in her. They reached the stonehenge - the spot where the two of them had confessed their love to each other, what felt like a life-time ago, and he stopped.

It took her a moment to realise his footsteps had ceased, then she turned back to him, slowed in her strides but did not stop.

"Where's Snape?"

"This way."

"Daphne, stop."

She didn't.

"No, Harry. Snape is this way."

In exasperation, he threw his arms out around them.

"Where, then? _Where_ is he? Just tell me!"

Her direction changed finally. Moving back towards him now, still with the cold look of a woman on a mission on her face. He didn't know why he felt as threatened by this as he did.

"He's this way. Just keep coming. Please."

"Where are we going? Daphne, Dumbledore _needs _Snape! I _need _to know where he is! If he's down by Hagrids, or by the entrance, there isn't _time _to go on foot! I'll summon brooms, we can fly down, or - "

He went to raise his hand, his wand hand, but froze on the spot. At that second, a particularly cold shiver had gone down his spine. And it had nothing to do with his sopping wet robes in the cold night air. In fact, how freezing he was now paid him absolutely no mind - for all he cared, the hillside could have been covered in ice or fire, he still wouldn't have noticed.

All his attention, right now, was focused on the tip of the wand aimed at his face.

"I'm sorry, Harry... I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

His eyes focused on the wand, then back onto its owner. She was not fearful anymore. Now she looked determined and venomous. Now, she looked like The Ice Queen.

"... what?"

"The Death Eaters are here, they want you," she answered quickly. "They want _both _of us, actually. We need to get awa-"

At once, he understood. In a rushing realisation, he felt incredibly frustrated at both her deception and in himself for believing it. More than that, he completely understood her. Though annoyed at the deviation from Snape, he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her. She was trying to protect him. He didn't blame her in the slightest.

But just because he understood, did not mean he agreed. In fact, she looked so sure of her resolve, he doubted there was anything he could say or do to get through to her. There would be no compromise or convincing had here. He remembered, as though from a former life, his years worth of duelling experience. He wondered if this would be enough to defeat her, if it came to it. She was more knowledgeable than him, academically at least, but how well would that translate into duelling? It wasn't a question he had ever realistically considered.

So instead, he didn't leave her time to finish. Ducking out of the aim of her wand, he tore himself back the direction he came and took off in a sprint.

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_

By sheer chance, her spell struck just as he crossed behind a pillar of the white stonehenge. It collided with a loud _CRACK_ into the stone, dislodging a large, probably thousand-year-old cloud of rubble in its wake.

The hurtful shock that she had actually cast at him was quick to wear off, and he dared a glance out from behind his shelter. She had cemented herself between him and the entrance to the bridge, her wand pointing directly his way. Slowly and with his hands hung up by his shoulders, he pulled himself out from behind the stone pillar, into range of her wand. Her hand was shaking very badly. He couldn't find the heart in him to raise his against her.

"Daphne, _listen_ to me! Dumbledore is hurt, he's injured! He needs help, and only I know he's up there! He needs Snape!"

She shook her head.

"The Death Eaters are here to kill us," she repeated. "We need to get away. They wanted _me _to bring you to them, when they find out I'm betraying them they'll kill me on the spot. We need to go into hiding or we will both die."

"If Dumbledore dies then we all die!" he shouted.

She gave a disgusted laugh and her mouth contorted involuntarily, as though she had tasted something very bitter.

"You are good… and pure…" she breathed hotly. "And you make me happy. And I'm not letting you throw that away so you can die playing hero! I don't care about the rest of them! I never did! I care about _me and you!_"

At this, his emotions burst to life like a burning torch.

"You don't mean that…"

"I do! What have they ever done for us!? We don't deserve the lives that _they_ made us live! We can go - we can start something new - but only if we go, now! These people aren't who you think they are!"

His threw his arms out in exasperation.

"So, what? Just leave!? What about Ron and Hermione? What about Tracey? About Astoria!?"

His words echoed across the grounds. Her face twisted and shimmered, looking like she was having to swallow down a particularly heavy gulp of fire whiskey. He had thought bringing her sister into it would be her ultimate trump card. He was wrong.

"Right now... the best protection we can give them is leaving. They're after us, so if we leave, they'll come after us. Doesn't take a genius that figure it out. Haven't you had enough people die for you already, Harry? Isn't it time to end that vicious cycle?"

Harry stared, wishing his ears had never heard her

"Don't say that…"

Daphne's lips peeled from her tear in a venomous grimace.

"This is me, here, taking a stand against it. I'm in control of my own destiny. And so are you."

There was a bang and shouts from behind them, louder than ever. They both turned to look. It sounded as though people were fighting in the entrance hall, not 30 meters away from where they were standing. His heart thundered in his chest. Every second they spent away was increasing the likeliness someone was dying.

She was right, enough people had died in this war, and there were people dying from it right now.

"I need to go down there."

"I can't let you."

He edged closer.

"I _need _to go down there."

"I don't care."

She really didn't, did she? This situation, the one he had preyed from day one they would never end up in, had finally happened. He did not like the sight of Daphne he was getting - but this was her. This was the real her, through and through.N ow that this drop of ink had been slipped onto the sheet of satin, he found it unlikely they could ever return to what once was.

His head was ringing uncomfortably.

"People _are_ dying. I _understand _what you are doing… " he spoke slowly, with meaning. "But I can't let others fight for me without helping. I can't let them die for me on the front lines while I'm running away. Together, we can fight. We can win. Neither of us will die tonight, I promise. And if we get Dumbledore's help - he can help us -"

Her answer was a predatory snarl.

"Professor Dumbledore is not the wizard you think he is!"

"What does that mean?"

She shook her head.

"We can just go, Harry. Change our names and start a life away from all this. We can even live as muggles, if you want! Because there is nothing but pain and death for us here. We don't need to argue, we're on the same side."

He agreed. He agreed a thousand times more than he knew he'd be able to communicate. His head was flooded with a dozen different ways they could have gone about it, but none of them seemed important now. What mattered right now, as in this exact second, was getting past Daphne. Harry looked at the only woman he had ever truly loved, feeling nothing but heartbreak at what he knew he must do.

"You're right. It didn't need to be."

She had been anticipating him.

"_STUPEFY!"_

"_PROTEGO!"_

As he dropped his wand hand to aim at her, she fired off a jinx that he was barely able to deflect in time. She raised her wand again, but now he was ready; with reflexes born of his Quidditch training, he flung himself sideways onto the ground and rolled behind a pillar of the stonehenge.

"_FLIPENDO!"_

He heard another stone crack as the flying hex missed him.

"DON'T MAKE THIS HARDER THAN IT NEEDS TO BE!" she said in a hard, cold voice as she drew nearer. "WE CAN GO FROM HERE! WHEN THE DARK LORD KNOWS WE'VE GONE, HE'LL LEAVE EVERYONE IN PEACE! IT'LL BE LIFE ON THE RUN BUT AT _LEAST_ WE'LL BE ALIVE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE THE HERO THIS TIME! YOU DON'T NEED TO PROTECT ME, I'M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!"

He leaned against the stone pillar, but his arms would not support him. He buckled and slumped against the muddy ground. Tonight's actions with Dumbledore, combined with the emotional weight of what he was experiencing, was becoming too much. He needed to examine his options. There was no hope fighting her while he was in this state. Even if they were evenly matched - a duel would take precious time that they did not have.

"HARRY, I'M BEGGING YOU, LISTEN TO ME!"

As she drew nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to let his friends die for him tonight. Anything else was irrelevant. He would not let anybody stand in his way, even her. He would not hate her for it, but he could not allow her to win.

Before she could appear around the headstone, he stood up, he gripped his wand and threw himself around the headstone, facing her.

"_FLIPENDO!" _

The hex blasted her back into a stone pillar, smashing breath from her lungs, leaving her panting and swaying. He dared not move closer, because she seemed ready for that.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Both spells hit their mark. Harry's wand was torn from his hand, as was hers, and were flung feet behind them in opposite directions.

She was quicker than him - that was something he wasn't used to. On a broom he was one of the quickest there was, but on the ground, she was more athletic than him. Even in the mud she was able to sprint in and out of the stone pillars with relative ease, and he had made the mistake of losing sight of her a moment too long. Just as he reached his wand, something caught him hard in the back of his head and he fell forward, his face smacking the mud, blood pouring out of both nostrils. He knew, even as he rolled over, his wand ready, that she would not be in the same spot.

"_STUPEFY!"_

The jet of red light soared past her head as she again took shelter behind a stone white pillar. She was coming out around the next one, he anticipated. But she had the good sense to expect him to know this and as she sprinted out the other side, she aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the closest pillar; the spell zoomed past him and hit the trees beyond them, sending a loud group of crows flying into the sky.

Frustration rose in Harry like he had never known. They shouldn't be here. They were wasting time, and people were going to die because of it. He needed to tell her this - if he could only communicate it properly to her than she'd understand. But, his heart in his throat, complex words were the last thing on his mind right now.

Each spell, impact or shout they produced sent a rippling echo across the hillside. It gave the scene the biblical air that it perhaps deserved.

They were slowly destroying the stonehenge. This area had been a home to him and the other Hogwarts students since first year, as it had likely hundreds of students hundreds of years before that. Now, two of the pillars had been completely destroyed, the others were scorched or scarred in some way, large chunks of the earth around them missing, the result of their misfired spells. But this was about more than just the henge. This had also been the spot that, not two weeks earlier, they had confessed to each other. And one year previous, where she had risked everything to be with him. This was an important site for the both of them, and as they stood destroying it, Harry couldn't help but feel his love for her chipping away with it.

The woman across from him was everything he hated. A blood puritan, and a traitor to her friends and family, who was only concerned with making sure she got out okay. Just like Peter Pettigrew. The signs had all been there all along, but he had argued for her, made excuses to their friends, covered for her again and again; all the while denying the dark path she was going down. She may not have been on the side of the Death Eaters, but it was a guttural and opposing moral belief system that was spurring them to be at odds tonight. When it had come down to it - when their friends, their home, had been in danger - he wanted to fight and she wanted to run.

Yet, despite it all, he still loved her as much as he had the night he first confessed as such.

This was not about the Order of the Phoenix versus the Death Eaters anymore. This wasn't Gryffindor against Slytherin. This wasn't light versus dark, good against evil, or anything as philosophical or symbolic as that. This was Daphne Greengrass against Harry Potter. And it was personal. Just the two of them, and the frustration of their lives being taken out on one another.

"WE CAN DO ANYTHING TOGETHER, DAPHNE! IT DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THIS! WE DON'T NEED TO FIGHT!"

They looked at each other for a sad, long second, before raising their wands simultaneously.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _

He parried his hex, failing to knock her wand away but succeeding in cutting off her spell before she had time to complete it. She hit the mud, rolled, scrambled back up and yelled back at him.

"_BOMBARDA!"_

A thunderous bang echoed across the grounds and he was thrown clear. Spots of light burst in front of his eyes and for a moment, all the breath seemed to have gone from his body.

One of the stone pillars exploded completely - shattering and producing a giant cloud of dust and debris. He hit the grass a few meters away and was unable to stop himself from skidding down the greasy knoll. As he tried to steady himself into a sitting position, his head swimming from its last impact with the ground, he saw Daphne stumbling in the dust. He struggled to his feet, looking groggily for his wand, hoping to rush her again, but even as his fingers fumbled in the grass, discarding twigs, he knew he was losing the battle.

Wand now in hand and limping, he began the treacherous walk back towards her. Another spell came his way. He mumbled something on instinct, deflecting it. Either he was quicker than he thought, or she was tiring. They were mere feet away now and he could see her face clearly at last. Though she was sobbing like he had never seen her sob in his life, she was still fighting. The sight of her like this, the girl he had sworn to her face to protect, shattered him to his core.

"Daphne, please…"

There was a loud _BANG_ and he felt a white-hot, whiplike something hit him across the face. He was slammed backward into the ground. He only narrowly kept grip of his wand, this time. There had been a steady ringing in his ears that was steadily growing with each spell cast - now it was almost impossible to hear anything else.

He got up again. And again. He thought back to his time in Primary school. Miss Evans, their history teacher, made them watch a documentary on world war two once. As the soldiers, tired and broken, thundered fearlessly over the top and across no mans land, that's rather how he felt, in this particular moment.

Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward her. The air distorted around him as he narrowly missed another curse. He glared at Daphne. Her mouth was open, her wand hand still trembling.

"I'M SORRY!"

That one was genuine, that time. He could tell she had not meant for any of this to happen. He saw her wand drop by a fraction. It was the gap he had been waiting for. In that instant, he let go of who was in front of him. He did not care that it was her. He did not care for anything they had been through. She was just another obstacle. She was just another dark thing that was out to hurt his friends.

He uttered an inarticulate yell of rage and with impossible strength mustered from god knows where, he threw his full force into her.

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" _

His tackle hit it's mark - her spell had not. With a painful cry, he smashed his full weight into her and threw her to the ground. For a second, she did not move. Then, groggily, she started fumbling for her wand in the mud. Then, she caught sight of him descending on her, his wand aimed, and froze. Her head went down.

She had yielded.

With a cry of thankfulness, he sank to his knees; shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, his breath coming in painful stabs.

There was a far off explosion, he felt the darkness closing in around them both. Before he left - before he had to go save Dumbledore so they could reclaim the school - there was something that had to be said. A lot had been said between them tonight. He got a sense that only now, only tonight, only after this battle, had they truly, really met each other. But there was one thing specifically that had been haunting him, and he refused to let it linger in the air.

"I don't want to protect you... because I think you're weak..." he panted, "I want to protect you... because you're important to me… and because I love you."

She lifted her head. Black streaks of mascara stained her cheeks, but her breaths had finally slowed. She was gripping her arm like she was in pain - he knew this wasn't from a misplaced spell, but was the area her dark mark was ingrained into her skin.

He inched closer and brought his arms around her, her sobbing wails now loud in his ears.

"I'm sorry, Harry..." she cried into him. "I'm so sorry..."

He tried to gather her as best he could. The position they were in was barely a hug to begin with, but now she had gone completely limp in his arms. He was just grateful she wasn't fighting anymore. He tried vaguely to pull her to her feet, unsuccessfully.

"Come on. We need to go. We can do it together, I'll show you."

She gave a few steadying gasps.

"Okay… Okay…"

Her hand came down over his wand hand, taking his fist tightly in her own. Supporting her weight, he pulled her onto her feet. She wobbled on the spot for a moment, before looking into his eyes, the black tears still streaming down her face from where her makeup had once been.

"There you go. Let's go. Together."

She sniffed.

"I'm so sorry…"

He nodded, sure.

"I am too. Now, come on, lets-"

"_Imperio." _

He felt a floating sensation, as though every thought and worry about Death Eaters had suddenly been wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there, feeling immensely relaxed, prisoner in his own paralysed body, as he stared into her teary green eyes, only vaguely aware of what had just happened.

"I love you too... That's why I have to do this. For us, not them."

He could not understand how it had happened. How he had let his guard slip, or how she could even have thought about doing this to him - then he realised. She had stunned him with his own wand.

She did nothing but stare down at him, tears in her eyes.

"We deserve the right to be happy."


	39. Hunted

It was done.

The damage that was wrought tonight could be repaired - but right now he was safe, and that was all that mattered.

She thundered back down the wooden bridge, away from the scene of their fight and into the depths of the courtyard. Harry Potter was safe, taking shelter in Hagrid's hut, and would remain there until the Dark Mark was clear from the sky, as per the instructions she had given him. She had done the hardest part, but where did her role fall now?

It was a lot quieter in the castle now. The aches and pains from the various hexes and curses she'd received in the past half hour were beginning to catch her up, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near her was suffering from them.

The question was - what now?

Though the idea of Sirius and the Order fighting the Death Eaters off on her behalf did betray her feelings, she decided against trying to join them. Those participating in the battle were doing the job they were hired for, the best she could do now was get herself safe as well. Lock herself in a dungeon somewhere and stay far away from the action, waiting for the winners to rise.

But it would appear, the night had other plans for her. As she rounded the next corner, it was right into the blackened eyes of Severus Snape, who was flanked on either side by Draco, Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the Carrow twins, and the infamous wolf man, Fenrir Greyback. For some reason, the group looked equally as shocked to see her.

Then Bellatrix leapt to life, zeroing in on her like a hungry predator.

"Where is he!?"

She went numb.

"W-what?" she stuttered.

She came in inches from her face, Daphne could see the death in her eyes.

"Where is the boy?" she asked slowly.

Her eyes flickered to Professor Snape, whose glare was cold and gave nothing away. At that moment, she sensed a gentle tugging at the base of her neck, like a cold hand suddenly wrapped around her brain stem. She didn't fight it, and understood.

"I… couldn't find him. I'm sorry. I did try."

Bellatrix spun in a small circle like a deranged child. Laughing like a Hyena, she pointed a dirty fingernail at her.

"What did I say! I _told _the Dark Lord she wouldn't betray her little boyfriend! Ooooooh, he's not going to be happy with you!" she sang.

It didn't seem any of the Death Eaters were convinced, either.

"I'm sorry, I tried… I did, but -"

A fleshy echo broke the silence of the corridor. She had no time to defend herself, and probably wouldn't have been able to if she tried. Bellatrix had struck a hand across her face, the sheer shock tore the words from her throat and stunned her on the spot. By the time she turned back around, she saw Professor Snape had grabbed her by her wrists.

"Do not!" he shouted. "What to do with her is for the Dark Lord to decide! Go, now!"

He pushed her ahead of them. She stumbled into a walk and, rubbing her cheek, Daphne caught the eyes of the other three; Draco looked similar to how he did the night they met the Dark Lord, terrified, but keeping a brave face. Carrow looked amused at her expense. And then there was Grayback, whose chest was heaving and this time, really was looking at her like a predator to prey.

"You as well!"

Her head snapped back to her Professor.

"What?"

He glowered at her.

"It's time to flee. If you stay, you'll be imprisoned. Or, perhaps, it needs _explaining _to you that Death Eaters are not the most welcome in the Ministry?"

Bellatrix cackled again, but again it was the icy hand on her spine that made Daphne obey. She started down the corridor the way she came, trying to keep Professor Snape situated between herself and the rest.

Whatever his big and elaborate plan was, she was certainly not going to interfere with it.

As they directed their steps through the castle, she saw windows in the towers above them were now lit. She could imagine, clearly, the scenes inside as her fellow students were waking up and telling each other Death Eaters were in the castle. What would her life become if somebody saw her with them? If they saw there was a humongous battle happening in the corridors, the Dark Mark was shining over Hogwarts and Daphne Greengrass was fleeing with a group of Death Eaters?

There was an explosion above them. A cloud of dust and debris fell from the ceiling. Bellatrix laughed again.

"If they do not hurry up, they'll be left behind."

"That's my sister yer' talkin about!" the Carrow brother sneered.

"Then _you _can go help her. I am not sacrificing the mission because little Alecto wants to play school reunion."

Carrow said something back to that, but Daphne's attention had moved to Draco. He was tailing behind the rest, and the two held each other's gaze for only a fleeting second. In that second, though, she saw the unmistakable glint of shine in his eyes, and realized he was crying. The others hadn't noticed this, and she had no desire to see the level of teasing that ensue should his aunt see him like this.

Consciously, she moved to place herself between Draco and Bellatrix. Whatever escape plan Severus Snape had in store for them, she wished he would enact it soon.

The oak doors of the entrance hall stood open ahead of them, light flooding out into the courtyard. She imagined she could see dressing-gown-clad people creeping down the grand staircase to watch them leave, though she was really too far away to see anything of the sort.

They started down the courtyard. Looking out, she saw a small crowd beginning to congregate at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. They didn't need to worry about being spotted by them, as the moonlight did not reach under the canopy concealing them, but she still made an effort to put the others between herself and the crowd, not eager to be spotted. The quicker they got out into the grounds, the better. But the murmuring crowd seemed completely detached to the world around them, their attention focused on a vague shape on the ground that she could now make out.

Through the crowd of dumbstruck students and teachers, a gap had been left, and Daphne was able to get a fleeting, yet unmistakable glimpse, of the lifeless body of Albus Dumbledore on the ground.

Then it happened.

The reality of what she was seeing seemed to be rushing towards her a million miles an hour, yet at the exact same time, seemed on the very tip of her tongue, though unable to grasp. Her body began to move in a dreamlike state. She heard Bellatrix's squeal of delight, though it could have easily been miles away.

The strong and noble wizard that welcomed them at the start of every term, the untouchable force that even the Dark Lord himself was afraid of, the so-called Greatest-Sorcerer-That-Ever-Lived, the man who she had been _specifically _told would be the key to protecting her... was lying dead on the cobblestone before them.

No matter how hard she fought in one direction, fate seemed ever more determined to drag her back the other way. Harry had been right. He had needed help, she had been too preoccupied protecting themselves to realize it. She had acted on the orders of Severus Snape, believing them to be a step towards breaking the mold and finally foraging her own path. What she _had _been doing, in fact, was being used as a pawn.

Because she had be duped. She had been manipulated. Her job wasn't to keep Harry away to protect him, she was supposed to keep Professor Dumbledore defenseless. This was what she got for trusting people - he was dead and it was her fault. Nobody else's. She had put her faith in the wrong man and he had used her, used her like her father used her, and used her like she had spent her whole life being used. She had trusted Severus Snape and he had _used her_ to commit murder. A crossroads of destiny had arisen and she'd picked wrong. And now the entirety of the wizarding world was going to suffer for her mistake.

Her body began channeling the blind fury she was experiencing and started to move of its own accord.

She, in believing she was finally going to be clear of all of this, might as well have handed the key to victory to the Dark Lord himself.

Automatically, without even knowing what she was doing, she pulled her wand back out of her sleeve and silently pointed it at the greasy head of Severus Snape.

Draco moved to stop her.

"Don't!"

"_CRUCIO!"_

The spell snapped his head forward. Though he faltered and groaned, he did not writhe and shriek with pain as expected. Instead, after a stunned silence from everyone, he turned around, raising his wand at her.

"You _little…_"

She dodged out of Draco's grip and took off behind the closest corner. She was too frightened to think about what she was doing, too frightened to do anything other than focus on getting away.

Bellatrix let loose a low, soundless cackle.

"Graybaaaack… fetch!"

* * *

She stood, frozen still in the dark corridor for a long time. The castle air wrapped around her, draining every last bit of warmth from her body, to the extent that it felt more bitter than when she was out in the grounds. Her fingers, her hands, her feet, all felt increasingly cold.

She let out a long, wretched breath as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts, her mind cast in a dozen different directions.

How could it all have backfired this badly?

It was only now she realized how delicate her newfound sense of happiness had been. Everything depended on him, the linchpin of her life since that first damned potions lesson. Harry Potter was the one person she had come to depend upon above all others, and who reciprocated every bit of the love that she felt. But she failed him, and realized it all too late.

She always thought her sense of independence was a good and admirable trait. It was a stark difference to others, who felt incomplete without company - how could one expect to be loved for who they were, when they were not even a full person? And then when she first met him, he seemed daft and full of himself. Where her actions were always measured and precise, he was messy, blundering forward through life on his heart's whim. Then she got to know him, and discovered how sincere that heart was. It felt good lowering her inhibitions around him and opening up, even just that little bit. She didn't let those boundaries down for anyone, even herself. When she was around him, it was as if she was seeing her real self slowing coming to life. And it came as a surprise as much to herself as it did him, but she liked that self. The Ice Queen was a defense mechanism, but when around him, she was Daphne Greengrass. And as it turned out, she quite liked Daphne Greengrass.

Now, though, she was beginning to have doubts if it was ever that way. Perhaps that was to be expected after effectively, betraying his ultimate trust, resulting in the death of his mentor. She realized now that soon after meeting Harry, he began to treat her as she did Astoria; as someone who needed help and care. She had fallen into the exact same trappings as everyone else. His absences, caused by their breakup, only made her realize how much she had grown to depend on him. She didn't want to be a burden on anyone, especially him, but never considered if he might have felt the same way.

She never questioned if it should have gone both ways. She never tried to be there for him in the same way. And now she finally had, she'd done it wrong.

A small pit of frustration and anger at herself welled up in her chest. The weight of her eyelids closed her eyes, both her physical and mental exhaustion finally taking over. She was far from the sounds of battle, now the only sound was her slow, heaved sobs.

She just let everything happen, never even trying to be there for him. She had taken a nice solace in their situation, and fought for it to stay that way forever, the two of them having a nice long relationship where they pushed forwards towards our future together. She could forgive it all, because just listening to him this _once _would have been enough. It was a childlike dependence on him she had, without any attempt to understand or help his situation. If only she had listened… why hadn't she listened? Thanks to it, she had betrayed him. He would hate her, she was as good as a murderer now. She was going to lose the one person she loved most, because she hadn't been there for him when he needed her.

The one time she had tried doing for him what he had done for her… She had ruined it. Ruined it all. She had the ultimate chance to correct her mistake and blew it. Whether she had good intentions or not, it didn't matter now. All that mattered was, once again, she had messed everything up. And now it wasn't just her that was going to suffer for it, but everyone.

Her reflection of self-woe was promptly interrupted, however.

There was a mass splintering of wood, followed by thick, ponderous steps of something impossibly large behind her. She shot a look back, her instincts screaming at her to run, but she had to see it.

Her body paralyzed as she saw it - the biggest, most vile-looking creature she'd ever seen stepping into the empty corridor, followed by the childlike cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange. It was an abomination, at least eight feet tall, once human, perhaps, but no more. His head had lengthened, as had his body, his shoulders hunching over as he swapped now onto all fours. More hair was starting to sprouting from his face and hands, which were turning into clawed, deformed paws. The werewolf looked closer to some forbidden amalgamation of a bear and a wolf than anything remotely human. He, or now maybe _it_, seemed taller than Hagrid and just as wide - his long coat now breaking apart at the seams.

As it focused its attention to her, she felt a fear greater than any she'd ever known.

The enormous, bear-like dog bounded forward. Despite it's immense-bulk, it was able to move toward her with impossible speed, and she saw its eyes, black and rimmed with yellow. Her misery could wait. She aimed her wand but hesitated, terrified. She knew at once she hadn't a single hope of being able to outrun it. Surprisingly, she did manage to summon enough energy to her voice and sent a curse at it, followed then by another, and another. She saw each of the impacts; a flap of lapel on the overcoat was blasted to shreds, a dead torch was shattered behind and the third one hit it hard in the neck. But it rebounded, with not a flicker of expression passing over Graybacks features. The wolf carried on as easily as if she had just blown air at it.

White-hot dread spurred through her system the likes of which she had never felt before. Werewolves were like giants - normal magic wouldn't work against them.

In adrenaline-boosted dread, with no other options occurring to her, she cast again and again, hoping one of the spells might be enough to break the werewolves' protection. But it thundered on, taking steps in giant bounds, striding head-on into her the stream of magic without flinching - and she lost track of the amount of times she cast against it, unable to believe that it could still be coming, less than ten feet away now.

At last, when the beast was almost upon her, her brain reawakened just enough to give her the good sense to dive out of the way. The beast leapt and it's jaws closed around thin-air, the spot where she had been standing not seconds later.

She skidded on the marble floor and dove into a run. She didn't dare another glance back now, the image of that monster pelting towards her was deeply ingrained into her brain, she didn't need to see it to know she needed to run. She heard it wheel around and give chase. The squeaking of paws and sharp claws on the marble floor was giving her an idea of how far ahead of she was.

Her body twisted as she hurtled forward, looking desperately for any help that she knew wasn't there.

"_CARPE RETRACTUM!" _

A sticky orange mess shot from her wand and sealed around a nearby suit of armor, which after a tug, came flying towards her. The metal armor missed her by a inch and, from what the sounds that followed, broke apart upon impact with her pursuer. It gave her enough time to dodge down another hallway.

The first door she found was unlocked, so she tore back it's iron handle and hurried inside. Then, as quietly as she could muster with her heart pounding her head, she lowered the door slowly closed behind her. She was very still, listening to the pound of blood in her ears, waiting for the next blow. Long seconds dragged by and nothing happened, but more passed before she dared to look away, and even the realization that it was no longer attacking for the moment brought her no relief. She prayed the distraction was enough for it not to have noticed her. But, had taking the time to close it properly betrayed her hiding place? There was only one way to find out.

She pressed her head against the wood, which felt unusually cold, and listened to the hallway beyond. Footsteps were coming, two at a time, but were slowing down. She could hear as Grayback moved down the corridor. He sniffed loudly. Then sniffed again.

With a crash, she was hit in the face by the door as something hard impacted it from the other side. She landed painfully on her bottom and shot a hand to her face, where she felt something warm streaming from her nose. There was another howl. She looked up - the entrance had crunched and splintered, but remained shut. It did not look like it would last another hit, however.

"_COLLOPORTUS!"_

The locking charm would not suit her well for long.

Scrambling up, she pointed her wand at the mass of desks and chairs around her.

"_WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA MAXIMA!"_

There was an ear-piercing sound as all of the table legs began to screech along the stone floor towards her. One by one, each of the tables and chairs ejected themselves into the air, latching against the door, barricading her in. Within a moment, there was a sizable amount of wood and iron separating her and Grayback.

She had time, but that was it.

She would not be able to take on the werewolf with her wand, not without backup. The thought of the Order occurred to her, but she hadn't the faintest idea where in the castle they were by now. Harry was probably over a mile away, and the only other wizard that could help her, the strongest wizard that ever lived, was currently… currently...

She physically shook the thought from her head. She needed to think. Nobody was going to save her, she needed to think of a way out on her own.

She looked around and her heart duded to a halt. She had just trapped herself. There was no other exit to the room. She crossed to the window, knowing it was useless but having to see - despite being on the ground floor, this row of classrooms overlooked a chasm down into the Great Lake.

The only way she was getting out was back through the door she came through.

Giant paws hammered at the door, echoing in the small classroom. The door was going to give in seconds, she'd have to go with what she had. No way she could kill it, but she could try to get around it. No, she knew what to do. Her magic may not have been able to directly affect the beast, but it could affect the areas around it. She had just seen that with the suit of armor she had used. And she was spoiled for choice in here, with the amount of desk's she had to defend herself.

With forced positivism, and the sound of the crunching door loud in her ears, she pointed her wand at the barricade and waited.

But she hadn't stood a chance - Grayback had hit it with such force that the door shattered and sent out a cascade of broken desks across the room. A wall of sharp debris hit her, she threw her arms up, feeling splinters digging into her exposed areas. She cursed, but the pain was instantly muted, as found herself looking directly into the open maw of the wolf.

She jolted back, but again, it was no use. His giant paw had scooped her up by the neck and she was lifted from the ground. Through struggling, she was able to clear a few inches out of his grip, only to then be snatched up by her hair and lifted even higher.

She fought to make her paralyzed vocal cords function, much she could not scream. She hadn't screamed this entire time, in fact. At least she would have that. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream with what she knew was going to happen next. She dared opening her eyes. His jaws were open, but he wasn't trying to kill her - if that was the case, he could have easily done so by now. She was being carefully lowered into his open mouth, being blasted in the face by musty, hot breath. She started to whimper. He was going to _bite _her.

Sickness began to spread through her. Closer and closer she grew, the splintering pain from her scalp worsening with every inch. Her feet kicked madly, she tried aiming a few into the beasts chests, but only succeeding in rocking herself back and forth in midair. Still, she didn't scream. She wanted to now, she even tried to, but she couldn't. Her diaphragm pushed, but there was no air inside her to come out. Every inch of the power left in her was fighting. But she knew what was coming. In the closed confines of this classroom, with nowhere to run, no help on the way and her magic having no effect, she was powerless.

Through the indescribable amount of pain, she was able to force words through her clenched teeth.

"_Diff... in... do!"_

She had been aiming for the werewolves wrist. Not necessarily to severe it, or even fatally wound, but hopefully just damage it enough that he would let go. But that was not what her spell hit. What her slicing charm did, however, was cut clean through the hair that he had holding her up.

The pain on her scalp released and she fell to the floor, choking deep breaths.

Stunned that she was still alive, she scrambled around on the floor for the wand she had dropped, then with a roll, dove out of the grasp of the beast, who had been going to rush her with his other paw. Feeling elated, with a mixture of sickness, she scrambled out of the exit and back up the corridor she had come from.

Unconsciously, she brought a hand up to grasp limply at where her hair had been. The long, gorgeous locks that she had spent so many years caring and pampering for, were now abandoned in the paws of the beast. Her hair was probably shorter than Tracey's now. Considering how close things had come, losing it had been a fair trade. The other option, being that of her life. She had to physically shake the trauma from her head. Now was not the time.

On her way back to the courtyard, she thought she heard spells. She decided against pausing to check, but cocked her head to one side. It _had_ sounded like spells, like dueling, but had been too far away for her to be sure.

There was a metallic clatter behind her, the sound of the beasts paws on the floor. He was back on her trail and gaining on her again. She was struggling now, wrestling with fatigue, while he was able to move with seemingly effortless strides. She pushed to increase her own pace as well. The rational voice in her head told her she stood no chance of being able to outrun a werewolf, but she didn't hear it. She had to keep pushing. She was alive, but only for now.

She could taste her nose bleeding.

Forcing an idea, out of her clogged brain, she struck her wand out at a trophy case as she passed it.

"_BOMBARDA!"_

But nothing happened.

The bit of wood in her hand was not her wand, but a piece of splintered door. She had picked it up by mistake. Her wand would still be on the floor of the classroom.

She wouldn't be able to get back around him. Even if she could dodge his attack and get behind him, she would just end up trapping herself in the classroom again. She was now defenseless. Her only hope was to avoid him for long enough that help arrived, or otherwise somehow lose him in the depths of the castle.

Thinking on her feet, she threw the stake of wood at the werewolf, where it bounced carelessly off his shoulder.

He was a lot closer than she thought he was.

She could see white now. Her lungs were burning. Her legs wished they never stopped their daily jogging exercises. Her heart was threatening to burst from it's cage - it was the only thing she could hear, but she closed her ears to it.

Just then, there was a tightening pain from her dark mark. It was the final blow she could withstand. Before she could think of anything else, the floor disappeared from under her feet. She stumbled, one hand shooting down to clutch her arm, the other cushioning her face from the floor.

Before she even had a chance to pull herself back up, he was bearing down on her. That fall had sealed her fate.

A part of her would be glad if he just killed her here and now. She wished he would, in fact. It was better than the alternative. At least then there would be no more pain. At last, Harry would be able to fight his war without being dragged down by her. He could find himself a girlfriend who'd treat him the way he deserved - the way he had earned. And what a load off it would be for her father, who wouldn't have to keep covering for her anymore. With her dead, they would both be safe from her betrayals. No more worrying, she would be a bother to nobody now. They could fight their war, at peace that she was far away from it.

As his hot breath descended on her, she squeezed her eyelids shut and threw out her arms. Her only wish was it would be over quickly. She saw Harry's face upon learning how she had died, and saw how happy and proud he would be of her. She had made mistakes, but had gone the way of a Gryffindor. She died trying to make her amends. His smile was the last image she'd see before passing on, and she was okay with that.

But, just when she was sure she was as good as dead, the attack never came.

She dared a glance at opening her eyes, and was just in time to see the werewolf colliding with the wall at the end of the corridor.

Her head snapped behind her, hoping to see Harry, Sirius, or even Professor Dumbledore, stood over her with their wand aimed. But there was no one. No savior had come. Nobody in the corridor but the two of them. Then, her focus went to the outstretched hands before her.

Had _she _done that… ?

She was absolutely brain dead on what else could have happened. She couldn't have, could she? She was a talented witch with a strong bloodline, but that kind of power was beyond her. That was something she'd only seen the likes of Dumbledore or the Dark Lord do. Surely, she had not just performed wandless magic?

Grayback let out a howl of rage. All of a sudden, she didn't care much about dying like a Gryffindor. Who wanted to be a hero, anyway? Seemed like too much of a responsibility to her. Not her at all. She would leave the noble sacrifices to those who sought that kind of glory.

She was on her feet again and sprinting the other direction before she realized it.

An arm swooped in from Merlin-knows-where and dragged her to the ground, just as the green light of the killing curse exploded overhead.

"Down, Princess!"

She had found the fight. Before she knew what was happening, her ears were assaulted with screeches, cries and the smashes and bangs of battle, as she had wandered into a war scene. Never in her life did she think she'd ever be this happy to be nose-to-nose with Nymphadora Tonks.

"Where's Harry!? Is he safe? Is he alright?" she asked.

Elation flooded her system. She was _saved_. Then, it was replaced by extension dread, as she recalled what was thundering down the corridor behind her. She nodded, but spluttered out a different answer.

"The werewolf! I-it's coming!"

Tonks looked down the corridor she had just come, her eyes growing wide.

"REMUS! GRAYBACK!"

Daphne's feet met something hard on the floor and she stumbled: The body of Neville Longbottom. He was breathing, but she didn't stop to investigate further.

Tonks dragged her up to her feet. She then saw red in front of her; Ginny Weasley was locked in combat with the other Carrow twin, who was giggling as she threw hex after hex at her. She watched as Tonks threw a curse into the Carrows' back, who was then lifted off her feet and slammed into the wall opposite, slid down it. Beside her crumpled form, Ron, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Lupin were each battling Dolohov, Rookwood and... her father. Beyond them, she saw Professor Moody fighting, who she recognized, as Avery, who was sending curses flying in all directions.

"GET THE GIRL OUT OF HERE! NOW!" she heard him bark.

Sirius appeared from the battle and grabbed her shoulders. He was obviously glad to see her, but she could read the urgency in his face. He looked importantly into her eyes, but she couldn't connect with him, not while she knew what was coming.

"You're safe with us now, Daphne, we need to get you -"

His words were cut short, as she knew they would be, as Grayback burst into the scene. A rain of what she could only describe as hellfire descended on him, as almost every standing witch or wizard turned to fire on him. The light show was near-blinding, though the spells themselves did not seem to be doing much. He let out a savage growl and swiped blindly forward, sending Avery flying down the corridor.

"OVERWHELMED HIM! DRAG HIM DOWN!" Professor Moody shouted over the rest.

Most of the Death Eaters were fleeing, Daphne caught the stern eye of her father, Benedict Greengrass. Wasn't he supposed to be in Azkaban? It hadn't occurred to her until now - there really was no going back, now. She was outed to them as a traitor. Now, the war seemed real.

There was surprising a howl from nearby and suddenly a second figure, a lot smaller, entered the scene. They bounded towards Grayback on all fours and pounced, latching themselves viciously to his neck. Through the dazzling light display, Daphne was just about able to make this figure out as a second, albeit lot smaller werewolf. It was half his size, with the skeletal structure under it's skin showing, but was putting up a vicious fight.

Grayback gave a powerful roar. The corridor shook. He was able to land a paw on the smaller wolf's and knocked him free, then used his great bulk to smash it against the stone wall. That would have been fatal to a normal human, but the second werewolf merely yelped and leapt away.

"REMUS!" Tonks cried.

Daphne put two and two together and realized that Professor Lupin had vanished from the fight.

Then, seconds after the first challenger arrived, there was a spree of snarling noises, and Daphne experienced a rushing on both sides. A musty smell filled the scene, as two more wolves jumped into the scene, bigger than the first, but neither as big as Grayback. One of them a deep golden orange, the same as Weasley's hair, the other a female, who was colored a brilliant, pure-white. The spells ceased, probably out of fear of hitting the new combatants.

The two wolves charged forward into Grayback, the orange one bounding forward into his chest, the white one latching its teeth into its legs. He let out a growl of pain, but remained upright, that was until the smaller wolf, who Daphne now knew was in fact Remus Lupin, dove onto his back and began tearing at his neck.

She shivered, feeling the knot of fear in her lower belly clench and grow heavier. Why hadn't Grayback killed her when he had chance, when it would have been so easy? Just thinking about the answer she knew was true, and that she had almost ended up like one of the monsters before them, made her want to crawl into a dark place somewhere and hide.

With the weight of three wolves all latched onto him, Grayback crumpled forward. The ginger wolf leapt away, but as it returned back, it was grabbed by one of the large paws. It let out a shriek of pain and bit down on the hand holding him. Grayback's arm rounded and knocked Lupin from his back, still maintaining tight grip of the orange wolf. The white wolf retreated as the large wolf came to his feet, but returned to attack the arm holding the ginger wolf. Lupin came in second and together, the two forced a release of the arm.

Even though she was terrified to the point of paralysis, part of her couldn't help but feel amazement at the sight of the four wrestling monsters. Grayback was easily more powerful than the other three combined, almost twice the size of them, but the others were skillful, and working in coordination. She didn't know how much awareness these wolves had, but it definitely seemed like they were all working on behalf of the Order.

Grayback leapt back from the three, who had now gathered in a line, separating herself and the Order from Grayback. They snarled and barked at him, while he howled and lunged forward, daring them to get closer.

One broke from the pack - the pure white one - and threw itself into him. She was easily swept away by his ginormous arm, but as the contact was made, Lupin leapt forward and bit down hard into his exposed flesh. The ginger wolf dove in after and for the second time, two of the wolves had Graybacks arms held to the floor. He roared with rage again and thrashed against them.

"NOW!" Professor Moody shouted.

All at once, the cease fire ended and every spell in the corridor was alive and blasting the giant wolf. He howled out in pain, and the lady wolf returned, biting into his shoulder.

Together, with the combined force of the three wolves, they started winning. Grayback was either tiring, or his mass of injuries were now beginning to catch him up. Lower and lower they dragged him, while the spells and curses shot over their heads and rebounded off Grayback. Most spells bounced harmless off him, but a few were beginning to leave marks. Daphne felt more guilty than ever for not having her wand, as she was itching to cast an exploding charm right down it's giant maw.

Their success didn't last though. Grayback rolled his free paw into a fist and smashed it down onto of Lupin. Both she and Tonks winced at his howl of pain. The white wolf was then thrown from his shoulder.

As quickly as they had gained the upper hand, they'd lost it again. In the one move the three dogs holding him down had gone to one, just the ginger wolf, who didn't stand a chance as Grayback reached out and covered it's entire face with one paw, still growling forward and smashed him against the wall. The sudden success seemed to act on him like a stimulant, as the spells no longer seemed to be affecting him at all.

"MORE! MORE!"

Grayback brought a giant dog-like leg down onto the white werewolf, who squealed in pain. He began to lift the ginger one further up the wall, crushing it's rip cage. Only Lupin remained unpinned down, but despite his attempts, he didn't stand a chance at budging Grayback's grip on the other two. The spells were flying off him more than ever. The lady wolf howled in pain as he pushed more weight onto her, squeezing the life from her and the ginger one.

Suddenly, it howled again, a deafening chorus. Daphne could only watch as she realized it wasn't going to stop. They were loosing. More than that - they were dying. Grayback had trapped them both in just the right angles to crush their ribcages. She never wished she had her wand on her more than now. Even if she would have no more affect than the others, she needed to do something. This was her fault and she needed to make this right. Each second that went by was one she couldn't regain, a second that might end up meaning the difference between the rise or fall of the wizarding world.

She found that in this moment, she hated it with everything inside of her, and despised it more than anything she'd ever despised. More than her father, more he and than the Dark Lord combined. The unnatural, ungodly thing that it was not going to beat her. She had already arrived at the revelation she was comfortable dying tonight. And she had just robbed the world of it's two best hopes, so even if she failed, she had to try. She owed it to herself and, more importantly, to Harry.

Challenging the Gryffindor spirit, she decided to do something _extremely _stupid. This beast had chased her mercilessly - if it wanted her that badly, it could damn-well have her.

Breaking from Sirius's grip, who had been doing his best to shield her from the fight, she dove to the floor and snatched large chunk of ceiling that had been shaken loose.

"DAPHNE, NO! HOLD FIRE! HOLD FIRE!"

The spells died and silence hit like a physical blow. She pelted forward and found herself positively thrilled, almost overcome with an intense and violent sense of self-satisfaction. She stamped on the back of the white werewolf and with all her force, flung herself right into Grayback. She brought the block down, smashing it into the great beasts ugly maw. The impact shattered her wrist - she knew at once from the nameless pain that it was broken.

But it had worked. Grayback yelped like a dog and stumbled back, stepping off the white wolf and freeing his grip of the ginger one.

She hit the floor painfully, not having a free hand to stop her fall. She landed on her knees and elbows, a sore throbbing now coming from her right hand. She didn't hesitate and stumbled into a wobbly sprint, barreling quickly around the closest corner. This was all on instinct; she was too frightened to think about what was inevitably coming up behind her. She wanted out - she wanted to be far away before Grayback recovered and shook off the effects of the impact, as he surely would.

Unfortunately, she was exactly right. Grayback had not decided to stand the ground of his fight, but the familiar sound of claws on stone returned, and she knew he had once again returned to their chase. But, she had the Order on her side now - they were brave, they would be without a doubt tailing Grayback and trying to help her, right? She had a chance, now. If they could just slow him down long enough for her to make it back to the classroom with her wand was in, or maybe escape to the dungeons, where she still had Merula Snyde's wand hidden in her dresser...

Daphne sprinted back the way she'd come, slamming down the corridor, while behind her she could hear it's ugly predatory cry. She rounded another corner, ignoring the dull blossoming of pain developing in her hand. She just had to stay faster than him for a little longer. A little longer and it would be over.

A fist crashed into her face from the darkness and her world span. There was a gut-wrenching crunch in her head, as her vision was now the still ceiling. The last things to go through Daphne's head before the darkness overtook her was the sight of the Carrows descending on her, the smell of Graybacks breath and the dying cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

_A/N This was one hell of a ride to write. Just one more chapter left now. Thank you all for coming this far. _


	40. White and Green

Albus Dumbledore was dead.

In the days that followed this news, lessons in the castle were suspended and all examinations were postponed. A large percentage of the student body was pulled out of the castle, so much in fact that the total population seemed to have halved two days later. Out of who they knew, the Patil twins, Zacharias Smith, Lavender Brown, Nadia Khanna and Dominique Flamel were all gone; Tracey refused point-blank, which resulted in a shouting match between her and Miss Davis in the Entrance Hall.

The Hogwarts Express would be leaving for London one hour after his funeral. The Ministry hadn't been happy about it, but the staff were determined they should all have a chance to say goodbye. After that, it was required by law that all students were sent home.

Harry watched from the Hospital Wing window as a gigantic carriage the size of a house, pulled by a dozen giant winged horses, came soaring out of the sky. He recognised it, and saw as Madame Maxime drew herself out of the carriage and flung herself into Hagrid's arms. She was the latest in a long line of visitors that the castle had received. The lack of students was not noticeable - as in fact the castle was bustling with life now more than ever. Wizards and witches had come pouring into Hogwarts, it's grounds and surrounding Hogsmede, all looking to extend their last respects to Albus Dumbledore. Even the elderly Newt Scammander, who Harry only knew from his name on Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, was a face they had seen coming and going. There was also a delegation of Ministry officials, including the Minister himself, frequently happening around the castle for statements and interviews... Harry had diligently avoided all of them; he was no rush to again recount Dumbledore's last moments.

The beautiful weather outside seemed to mock him. Now, in dress robes that didn't suit him, and hunched over a bucket in the Hospital Wing, all the summer sun did was make him sweat. The self indulgent thought proved too much, and he was again sick into the self-cleaning bucket between his legs.

He had never attended a funeral before; He did not know what to expect and was a little worried about what he might see, about how he would feel. Earlier that morning, he had never seen the Great Hall so subdued. Everybody that remained was wearing their dress robes and nobody ate anything. Professor McGonagall had left the throne-like chair in the middle of the staff table empty. Hagrid's chair had been deserted too: he'd taken Dumbledore's death the worst, and Harry had assumed perhaps he had not been able to face it Snape's place had been unceremoniously filled by the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Ron and Hermione had visited him twice a day. Unrelated to their visits was Tracey, who since Daphne's disappearance, had been spending the majority of her time with his friends. The awkwardness about their drunken accident had gone unmentioned. There was a unanimous agreement between everyone that neither Dumbledore nor Daphne's name was to be mentioned.

Neville had been discharged yesterday, but Lupin, Chiara and Bill still remained, and were supposed to be transferred to St Mungos hospital after the funeral. The battle with Grayback had taken its toll on all of them and werewolf injuries were proving too much for Madam Pomfrey's care. Lupin had deep slashes across his body that gave him a resemblance to Mad-Eye, while Bill and Chiara got off a little better with just broken and cracked bones. But in personality, the trio couldn't seem happier. Though overshadowed by the news of Dumbledore's downfall, it was public knowledge what they had done that night. The Prophet had reported that Fenrir Greyback had been brought down by his own kind. Attitudes towards werewolves appeared to have changed like the flick of a switch, or at least towards this trio, as each day they found themselves giving interviews to a new group of admirers. At least there had been one slither of a silver lining in it all, he supposed.

Harry's injuries, his reason for still being admitted, were not the likes of theirs, however - he was still suffering under the effects of Daphne's Imperius curse. If he saw, or so much as heard something Death Eater-related, he had an uncontrollable urge to escape the current vancity and faced a painful ringing in his ears if he did not. Supposedly it was fading, but what it was fading into seemed arguably worse. He had been suffering the side-effects of a head splitting headache since it happened; that was what his current medication was for. He did not fight against receiving treatment for it, though he did think it unnecessary - he was just grateful for the privacy.

He wondered whether Dumbledore's death would be more real to him once it was over. Though he had moments when the horrible reality of it all threatened to overwhelm him, his life these past days were long blank stretches of numbness. Despite the fact nobody was talking about anything else, he still found it difficult to believe that it had all happened. Admittedly, he had looked desperately for some kind of loophole, it was all a dream, or they could use a time-turner, something, anyway that they could reverse the damage… but there was nothing. Daphne was gone and Dumbledore was dead.

In the back of his pocket, he felt the chain of the fake Horcrux pressing against him. He carried it with him everywhere, not as a talisman, but as a reminder of what it had cost. Of how worthless the sacrifice had been.

Because it was not the real Horcrux.

He did not need to open it and read the letter by R.A.B to discover that - he had known it the second he's laid eyes on the thing. Because he knew exactly where the real Horcrux was, which meant everything that happened a few nights ago, happened for no reason.

His thoughts straying to the topic, his empty stomach churned again.

They still had no idea where Daphne was.

He wrought no animosity for her actions. The same result would still likely have arisen regardless. And he would probably have done something similar in her position. Although, he acknowledged that was also probably him trying to justify not feeling anger towards her. He did not believe she was responsible for killing Dumbledore, even indirectly. He did despise her use of the Dark Arts, but that only meant a tiny bit of pity mingled with his frustration. Where, he wondered, for the twelfth time today, was she now? On the run? Imprisoned by Voldemort, perhaps? Or was she already… already…

Another twist of the stomach and he was again sick into his bucket..

Harry imagined what it would be like now if they had just not gone that night. If he had somehow seen a picture of the Horcrux before they set off for it. Dumbledore would not have died and Daphne would not been taken from them. They would be a Horcrux down, and with their relationship was good as public again, there really would have been nothing stopping them spending this last term properly together.

Harry's solitude was interrupted. Tracey pulled back the curtains of his bed; overconfident though she still was, she looked lonely.

"Heard you upchuckin'. You alright?"

He smiled wearily at her.

"Perfect," he croaked, the taste of stomach acid pungent in his mouth.

She nodded.

"Well… it's time. McGonagall's waitin' for us."

* * *

The funeral was held by the lake. It was the most beautiful summer's day imaginable - Dumbledore would have been thrilled with it, but the warmth of the sun on Harry's face just made his headache worsen.

A wizard in plain black robes had gotten to his feet and started talking, but Harry could not hear him. The odd word from the obituary floated back to him, but his attention was now on Hagrid, who was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. His face gleamed with tears and in his arms, wrapped entirely in white, was what Harry knew to be Dumbledore's body. A sharp pain rose in his throat at this sight: for a moment, he thought he was going to be sick again. The strange daze he was in, combined with Dumbledore's body being so close, seemed to suck all warmth from the day. Hagrid placed the body carefully upon the marble slab that had been lay at the front. When he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises, Harry tried to make a friendly gesture to him as he passed, but his eyes were so swollen it was a wonder he could see where he was going.

Beside him, Ron looked shocked and tears were falling fast into Hermione's lap. The little man in black had stopped speaking and resumed his seat. Harry waited for

somebody else to get to their feet; he expected to hear speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved. He could see Scrimgeour looking grave and dignified in the front row with Umbridge. He wondered how many of them here today were actually even sorry Dumbledore was dead.

Hermione nudged him again and he looked round. Bright, white flames were slowly rising around Dumbledore's body from the table it lay on. White smoke rose into the air and made strange shapes: Harry thought, for one moment, he saw the shape of a bird take form. And then not a moment after, somewhere out in the ground, a phoenix song began. Fawkes had started to sing in a way Harry had never heard before. An emotional, grief-stricken lament, the likes of which he did not think an animal to be capable of expressing. It was as if his own grief was turned magically to song, which echoed across the grounds and through the castle.

How long they all sat there, listening, he did not know. Nor why it seemed to ease their pain a little; to hear a representation of their mourning. He wished, more than ever, he had Daphne by his side. It felt like a long time later that the fire eventually died and the funeral was over. Harry looked around him properly for the first time.

An extraordinary assortment of people had settled into the chairs: shabby and smart, old and young. Most he did not recognise, but there were a few that he did, including members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley, Haywood, Mad-Eye, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Karasu and Lee. Then there was Lupin, Chiara and Bill, who were all being helped out of their seats by their friends and spouses; Lupin by Sirius and Tonks, Chiara by Emcee and Bill by Charlie and Fluer together. Fred and George were behind them and wearing, even Harry could admit, fetching jackets of black dragonskin. Ex-Minister Fudge walked past them away from the front rows, his expression miserable. Then, with a jolt of his headache, he next recognised Rita Skeeter, who was scratching away in her notebook. After that, through the vastness of the crowd he was only able to make out a few more faces; Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom and Mrs Abbot from the Leaky Cauldron, Arabella Figg, Harry's Squib neighbour, the bass player from the Weird Sisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, and some he merely knew by sight, like the Hogs Head barman that had once served him and Daphne and the trolly lady from the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, though barely visible in the bright sunlight.

People were starting to whisper to each other now, but the phoenix song was louder by far. The crowd was starting to disperse. And then, without warning, it swept suddenly over him, the dreadful truth, more complete and undeniably than it had been until now. Dumbledore was dead and gone. He clutched the locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, and couldn't prevent tears spilling onto his face.

He looked away from his friends and stared out over the lake, towards the forest, and saw movement among the trees. The centaurs had come to pay their respects, too. They did not move, but he could see them. Standing still, half-hidden in shadow, watching the wizards, their heads bowed. He remembered his first nightmarish trip into the forest, the first time he had ever encountered Voldemort, how he had faced him, and how at the end of that year he and Dumbledore had discussed why fighting a losing battle was important. It was important, he said, to fight, fight again and keep fighting, for evil could only ever be kept at bay, never fully eradicated…

And then, under the hot son, Harry saw very clearly the other people who had cared for him. They had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his girlfriend, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him. Now that was over. There was nobody left to shield him. He would not _let _anybody shield him. Nobody else was going to stand between him and Voldemort. He needed to abandon the illusion he ought to have lost as a child: that the shelter of friends meant nothing could hurt him. He was an idiot for spending this whole year fooling around with Daphne. The was a war to be fought. There was going to be no waking from this nightmare, no comforting whisper that he was safe or this was all just play-pretend; the last and greatest of his protectors had died and now he was more alone than ever.

At last he settled onto the three people sat beside him. Ron's face was screwed up as though the sun was blinding him, but he knew that was just him scared of letting loose. Hermione's face was glazed with tears, but Tracey was not crying. She met Harry's gaze with the same fiery look that he had seen on the Quidditch pitch. He knew at that moment they understood each other perfectly, and so he steeled himself to talk about what they had been avoiding for days.

"She'll be okay…" he said very quietly.

The buzz of conversation grew louder around them as more people began to get to their feet.

"We're going to find her. You don't need to worry."

She laughed. She looked away from him and out over the lake, with an oddly twisted smile.

"I'm not worried. She's a dumbass... but she's a survivor. Through and through. I've faith in her."

Harry could not bear to ponder the alternative, nor did he think his resolution would hold if he remained sitting beside her. Ron was now holding Hermione, stroking her hair while tears dripped from the end of his nose. With a miserable gesture, he got up, turned his back on them, and on Dumbledore's tomb, and walked away around the lake.

Moving felt much more bearable than sitting still.

He took a deep breath, then decided immediately that not to do that again. The air was crisp and the freshest he'd ever taste. There was a sense of... wrongness, lingering in it. Everything was too nice. Too perfect, too good to be true. It felt haunted somehow, as ridiculous as that might sound, considering the ghosts stood not twenty foot away from him.

He realized that there was nothing he could tell himself that made sense. Everything was happening so fast, there was so much wrong with this situation that he didn't know where to start. How had they ended up here? What happened to a week ago? Why had destiny been so cruel in catching him up? He closed his eyes, sickened. He couldn't even look anywhere to distract himself. Everything reminded him of Dumbledore and Daphne - how would they have enjoyed today, had they both been here?

He rejected the thought violently. Dwelling on it was a mistake.

He looked behind him. Everyone had moved from their seats now - though many remained in the vicinity. He moved quickly, so as to not be stopped and spoken to. He refound his friends in a group surrounding the werewolf trio. They all beamed happily to see him - which made his headache worsen.

"You guys were fantastic," he said groggily.

Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace. He swallowed.

"It was an... idiotic thing, we did. Letting loose like that, all of us at once… and at a school no less! It's nothing short of a miracle things don't go disastrously. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for endangering children like that."

Bill parted him hard on the back, making them both recoil a little in pain.

"We had our potions... We were in control," he said with an air on finality. "And absolutely fine while Grayback was there - so long as I could smell him, you could put a hundred unarmed muggles between us and I wouldn't so much as stop to sniff them."

Chiara, the pretty vise-head of the Beast Division's Werewolf Capture Unit at the Ministry, of whom Harry had only met once before, nodded in agreement.

"It happened best it could, Remus. Don't dwell on false futures. And it's not as though we're going to be doing it again. Circumstances called for it, is all."

"And it seems the tide is finally changing on public opinion of werewolves!"

He shook his head scornfully.

"Grayback still got away."

Harry gave an empty smile.

"One battle at a time though, ay?"

He wasn't quite sure what made him say it, but Lupin looked grateful he had.

"_Come on, you lot!"_

Unanimously, they rolled their eyes. The trio smiled at them for another moment, then turned and limped away. He could see Kinglsey, Mad-Eye and the rest of the Aurors waiting for them, all casting nervous glances about. Sirius swayed on the spot, apparently torn between rejoining his friends or remaining with his godson. Harry considered him for a long moment, then turned to his friends. Ron seemed to struggle with himself for a moment.

"Was… was a lovely service, weren't it?"

His good will did nothing to cheer either of them up.

"I can't bear the idea that we might never come back," Hermione said softly. "How can Hogwarts close?"

Ron shook his head.

"It still won't matter, even if it does," he said. "Everywhere's the same now. I'd even say Hogwarts is safer, actually. What d'you reckon, Harry?"

Harry pushed out a long breath, one that'd been building, and wrinkled his nose a little at the taste of vomit returning to him.

"I'm not coming back, even if it does reopen."

They both looked at him, but it was Sirius who answered.

"With Dumbledore gone... it will not be long until the Ministry goes the same way. You three are about to become ground zero. It'll be unsafe to return in the new year. Going into hiding, at least until we have an idea of how bad the damage will be, is the best way to go. Grimmauld Place is protected by old magic, you'll be safe there."

Harry nodded, but did not look at him.

"I'm going to find Daphne. _Then _we'll go into hiding."

Ron gaped at him, but Hermione spoke softly to him.

"Harry…"

He stopped her.

"Look, I know what you guys are thinking. I've seen you talking about it. And I _know _you're not bringing it up until after the funeral... but she is alive. I _know _she is. She knows what she's doing around the Death Eaters. She's a survivor, and she has her own lot looking out for her."

There was a long silence. The crowd had almost dispersed now, the stragglers giving the monumental figure of Grawp a wide berth as he cuddled Hagrid, whose howls of grief were echoing across the water.

"Well, we'll find out together, won't we?" Ron asked cheerfully.

"What?"

"Finding Daphne. Then going to your aunt and uncle's house," he carried on. "Then to Grimmauld Place, then after the Horcruxes, or whatever comes next. We'll go with you."

"No, you two aren't - "

But it Sirius interrupted him this time. He turned to Harry, hardness on his face, and brought his hands down on his shoulders.

"Harry… I will never be able to apologise to you as much as you both deserve. It was on my word that Daphne stepped forward, on my word that she betrayed the Death Eaters, and on my word that I said we'd protect her... That's on my head. I accept full responsibility, but the only thing that I can do to make it up for it is fix this. We'll find where they have taken her and we're going to get her back."

He didn't know how to respond to that. The fact that the Order failed to protect her, after explicitly stating they could, hadn't gone unnoticed by him. But he'd had been too preoccupied grieving to feel anger towards them for that - so facing it head on now caused a stirring of emotions in him.

Sirius continued.

"Me and Remus spoke it through. We figured James wouldn't want his son doing this alone. You three have this mission that Dumbledore set for you, and that's fine, but it doesn't mean you can't have help. It doesn't have to be just the three of you - you have the entire Order on your side."

He found his resolve and shook his head.

"I've had enough people die for me, thanks."

"And a lot _more _will die if we continue to blunder blindly forward without a game plan. We need organisation and leadership. With Dumbledore gone, we are to need numbers on our side. We need to stick together."

"I'm not having any one else line up to die protecting me."

Sirius looked annoyed but, as before, hastily modified his expression to one of sorrowful understanding.

"Harry! If you die, thousands - perhaps millions - will follow! You are the chosen one, yes, but you do not have to do it alone. Wouldn't you much rather ten people die, but by doing so, allow the saviour of millions to live?"

"No life should die in place of mine!"

Sirius shook his head. Ron and Hermione looked like they wanted to join in, but a warning glance told them to stay silent.

"You give people hope, Harry," Sirius said with an air of finality. "And _that _is worth dying for."

"You said to us once before," Hermione joined in quietly, "that there was always time to turn back if we wanted to. We've had time, haven't we? We've been through all this as well, we have the drive to take You-Know-Who down as much as you do."

"You're not going to beat us on this, you know," Ron nodded.

Harry glared at them for their betrayal, but Sirius took the cue to continue.

"We've got a twenty-plus list of people already wanting to help. The Weasleys, Fluer's family, _all _of the Order, heck, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Moira, Chiara, Snyde, even Longbottoms grandmother has offered! They want to fight. And if they die, they want to die knowing they are doing the right thing! People _are _going to die, Harry. The only thing that we can affect is how little that number has to be. _Please _understand what I'm telling you."

He had not counted on this. He had meant to undertake this dangerous journey alone. He had been relying on them to understand this, as he really didn't have the strength in him to argue his defence.

"We're with you whatever happens," Ron agreed. "... just so long as we find her before Bill and Fluer's wedding. Mum will go sick if we miss that."

He looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful.

"Oh yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally.

He and Ron laughed. Even Hermione grinned a little, though her smile faded as she looked up at the castle. Sirius remained in silent contemplation.

In spite of everything -in spite of the dark, twisting path he saw stretching ahead in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, a year, or in ten - he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one day of peace left to enjoy with Ron, Hermione and Sirius.

Then, he thought again of who ought to be rightfully sharing it with them. As he stood there, he became aware suddenly that the grounds were silent. Fawkes had stopped singing. And he knew, without knowing how he knew it, that the phoenix had left Hogwarts for good. Just as Dumbledore had left the world… and how Daphne had left them…

His stomach twisted painfully. Now Dumbledore's funeral was shrinking in his mind, the ever-more daunting task began occurring to him. His hand switched to his back pocket and closed automatically around the fake Horcrux.

"Sirius, I need you to see something."

Wordlessly, he pulled the locket from his pocket, opened it, and passed it to him. Sirius frowned and read the note before him, before his face broke out into realization.

"R.A.B…" he said with empty lungs, "... that _stupid _bastard."

"R.A.B?" Ron asked.

"It's Regulus Black," Hermione answered for him. "Sirius' younger brother."

Truth be told, Harry had felt no curiosity about R.A.B. The name was just another problem caused for them.

"Older brother, actually. Painted wrong way round on the portrait, see... often confuses folk…" Sirius let out a long, sour-sounding hiss, and swayed unsteadily on the spot. "I never knew. I _hated_ him for years! Years, wasted! So… Dumbledore died for a locket that was in my bloody house the whole time?"

Hermione rounded on them.

"What!?" she squeaked.

"Aw, yeah!"

He handed the locket to her.

"Part of the décor on the mantelpiece. I'd know - walked past the bloody thing every day! Shunned it off as some worthless family heirloom... If I'd have known… if Dumbledore had trusted us enough to just tell us…"

The mention of a Horcrux seemed to have acted like a stimulant on Hermione, as she was suddenly enthusiastic and full of energy.

"But this is good then, right!? That means we _do_ still have a Horcrux?" she asked eagerly.

"No," Harry cut Sirius off.

All eyes turned on him. With a breath, he prepared the words he knew he ought have said to them days ago.

"Christmas, Sirius. You were chucking stuff away and said I could have anything. The locket isn't in Grimmauld place, because I gave it to Daphne for Christmas. She's had it the whole time."

The words washed over the group like cold water, extinguishing any hope that might have been given life.

"And she's gone missing," Sirius cursed, "... Bloody wonderful."

But Hermione was determined not to let it go as easily.

"Harry, would she recognise what it is at all? Does she know what she has?"

He shook his head.

"I never got to tell her about the Horcruxes. She figured out it belonged to Slytherin - but I don't think even she could deduce what it is unprompted. If we can contact her, just one message would be all I'd need. She might even know a way to destroy it."

He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; he simply felt ashamed in himself for not solving this one already. His girlfriend, the love of his life, was out there, probably still in danger, what was he doing at a funeral? Why was he not out there right now, battling Death Eaters and trying to find her?

There might as well still be as many as four Horcruxes out there, and each would need to be found and eliminated before there was even a possibility that Voldemort could be killed. There was a dark and winding path stretching ahead of him; the path that he and Daphne had planned to set out on together, that he would now have to journey alone.

"If we're starting an army, then Daphne will want to fight too. She'll be a valuable asset. She knows more about the Dark Arts and Death Eaters than anyone on our side does."

* * *

Dark fragments of memories span into focus, only for the smallest, briefest glimpse before falling away again. She was a child in the countryside with her father, the taste of wet earth in the air. She was in trouble for being a thief, stealing something from the pocket of her uncle. The memories turned dark. Her aunt and uncle, the first she had lost to the Dark Lord; You-Know-Who, the death of happiness. Feelings of loneliness. The day her father joined the ranks of his followers, teaching her about blood purity, conspiracy and corruption. Then she was a student, training in Hogwarts, and ready to apply her new knowledge to her studies. She met friends, some she had betrayed, some who betrayed her. Then finally, she was in love, and the darkness was gone. But next came the sweeping sadness, next came the death of Albus Dumbledore...

Several times she woke, half awake, swallowed some nearby water and slept again, recalling the memories each time. The battle in the corridors, the faces of the people she'd tried so foolishly to save. All of them, probably dead now. And reigning over it all like the demonic epitome of evil, The Dark Lord, his terrible voice calling for her to join him, his terrible eyes seeking her wherever she went, whatever she did.

The gentle sound of rain lapped at the edges of her awareness. She always liked the rain. She yearned to see it and feel its coolness on her skin. But it was a long way away, and it was a tiring struggle to leave behind this dark isolation. Her body didn't want it, she wanted to stay here. It protested louder the closer she got to it, but determined, she won out. After deciding that she was in fact alive, Daphne opened her eyes.

Weak, thirsty, hungry and in pain from her broken hand and about a million other aches, but definitely alive. Disoriented and confused, she sat up slowly and looked around, only to receive a jolt of pain throughout her body. Her mark hadn't stopped hurting since it happened - it had been a distant feeling for the most part, until now. That movement had been the most deliberate she'd made in at least twelve hours. She had gotten used to the pain so much, it didn't much feel like pain, until she tried testing it. Then it resumed its vicious quest to tear itself from her skin, as though it had sensed her treachery and was doing all in it's power to make her suffer for it.

Something must have happened to stir her. Something more than the rain, but not predominant enough for her to retain memory of. There was arguing going on above her again, could that have been it? She could just about make out the voices over the trickle of the rain - some she thought she recognised.

She sat there for a moment, slightly overwhelmed by the mix of emotions hitting her - shock, amazement, a reluctance to believe she was still alive. Her stomach stung. They hadn't fed her since locking her in the dungeon. Probably, they hadn't expected her to be with her this long. Considering all that had happened, she was surprised at how well-off she was. Except for her right hand, which was swollen and purple, she had no serious injuries, and after drinking more water, felt the most awake she had in days. Her happiness at being alive was tempered by guilt, that she was still around when so many others had died already.

She was snapped from her trance by the noises above her. Somebody was moving now. The rattle of the rain drowned out the thumping of her heart as the noises moved closer and opened the door to the dungeon, and someone stepped into her darkness.

She was no longer alone down here. Immediately, she went to raise her wand, all her senses telling her to run, but then remembered her only hope was still on the floor of a classroom somewhere. She reached back and started slapping the cobblestone for anything to use as a weapon. Through the darkness there was a powerful smell, musty and organic, and the hard sound of footsteps coming toward her.

A single torch lamp flickered on in the middle of the dungeon, and she thought a second she was still having her nightmare.

Grayback was coming for her, now in human form, but covered in deep and ugly gashes, still bleeding. He walked into the chamber, as stiff and impossible as when she'd first seen him, nearly a year ago, the eerie orange light turning him into even more of a nightmare. On the floor, she couldn't tell how tall he was, but he seemed just as big and intimidating in human form as he did as a wolf. And he was about to reach her, if she didn't snap out of her stunned horror.

"S-stay away from me," she said feebly, and impossibly quiet.

Her mind raced for an answer, for a solution that would end the hate-filled life of the monster before her. If she only had her wand, she could aim an exploding curse at the ceiling above him, crush him where he stood… but she didn't have it. Instead she aimed a loose stone - the only defense she had left - at him and threw it. It hit him and he carried forward, undeterred. A mocking laugh came from the same direction, and Daphne moved her aching head a little to see Bellatrix skipping cheerfully behind him.

She had survived by the skin of her teeth, but it hadn't ended up mattering. All she had done in running from Grayback was piss him off. Her luck had ran out.

But he didn't kill her. Nor did he bite her. After making sure she was tightly secured in his paw-like hands, he dragged her to her feet.

"You-Know-Who wants to have a word with ye."

As her stomach distended, Bellatrix laughed again.

Her hand screamed in pain and protested, but she didn't notice. Her wide-eyed gaze was fixed on the new creature before her. It was hideous, more than she remembered. She didn't feel fear as she saw it this time, but pity for its continued existence.

"You have betrayed me again, young one," it said.

In the shrinking time she knew she had, she tried to arrange her expression carefully, to show a bewildered fear, like she was confused, but she knew he saw right through it.

She'd been caught, she knew concealing the truth now would only do to extend her suffering.

"My Lord, I tried my best - "

_"Silence!"_

The words fell from her mouth, and even the rain seemed to have abandoned her now.

"Did you _really _think you had fooled the great Lord Voldemort? Did you honestly believe… that I did not see you for exactly what you were? You were never trusted, your role was that of bait, my dear. Nothing more and nothing less. But it seems, you couldn't even do that without causing problems for me..."

Daphne didn't think, just spoke.

"I did what you… w-what you told me to…"

Even without finishing her sentence, she could see his anger swelling up like a red tide. An acid heat flashed through her veins and she felt sick. Even before he said it, she knew what was coming next.

"Grayback, my friend. A deal is a deal and I am a man of my word. Take the child as your own and do with her whatever you wish."

With a growl that she was sure would be the last thing she ever heard, a heavy pressure came down on her shoulder.

She staggered, not understanding - she was in control, she was the Ice Queen, how had things gone so horribly, horribly wrong? Her life had been selfish. About ego and greed. Good people had died in the world and for some reason, she had never much cared. She told herself that kind of effort was a waste of time and a sign of weakness. Was she about to go the same way? Dying a good person, but only to be forgotten? What was the point in such a waste?

Grayback wrapped his hand around her shoulder, squeezing so tight she might have heard the bone being crushed. His other hand came down, securing around her waist, and she realized too late the floor beneath her had gone and she was being lifted through the air. And it broke her.

The scream that had been progressively building up since that night finally broke from her throat and filled the room as she fought against the inevitable.

"NO! NO! STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE - JUST STOP, I CAN - I CAN CHANGE, I'LL DO ANYTHING!"

She was panicking, lashing out like a trapped animal, doing and saying anything to aid her escape. Grayback licked his lips, his hungry gaze travelling over her limber, smooth form.

"PLEASE! PLEASE! DON'T!"

A clatter of metal as a door swung open and a silhouette passed her

"WHATEVER YOU'RE GOING TO DO TO DAPHNE, DO TO ME!"

It was a man's voice, a man's shape, and a shadowy figure stopped in front of the Dark Lord.

"Please, I'll do anything! Just let her walk free!"

She twisted to see her saviour, kicking against Graybacks chest, a beating pulse of stinging pain coming from her broken hand.

"Release her, Grayback."

She hit the cold marble floor and leapt to her feet. She staggered away, nothing new broken, but as she stumbled, Grayback turned his immense body in her direction, ready to snap her up again at a moment's notice.

"Daddy - !"

It was as if an invisible hand had slapped over her mouth - she turned to see Severus Snape entering the room, putting his wand away.

"I beg your pardon, Benedict?"

Her father had dropped to his knees in front of The Dark Lord. She wanted to see his face, to look into his eyes, but Snape had reached her and blocked any attempt at fighting.

"Daphne is a good girl... my lord."

He had been crying. She recognised it in his voice - it had been his shouting which had woken her earlier.

"She never wanted any of this, I was the one that got her involved, and that's on me. She's not one of us - she's not a killer - she never was! She doesn't deserve any of this, please… Blame me for her failure, not her."

There were more Death Eaters around them than she realized, blocking all exits. Grayback, Bellatrix and the Carrows all stirred. There wasn't an eye in the room not nervously pressed on the Dark Lord.

"You put me in a difficult position, Benedict. You stepped up when Lucius fell and have become one of my most loyal servants… and a close friend. I do not show mercy often, but alas, I shall grant you this."

Benedict gave a wretched sob of thanks, which was cut off abruptly.

"_But_ in exchange for the girl's innocence… I must ask from you the ultimate price. That which can never be resorted. Do you deem this an acceptable exchange?"

Daphne felt the room wobble violently around her.

"Y-yes, my lord."

Weak, legs distant and rubbery, mouth not working, and heart pounding - she could not let it happen this way. She understood the need for the silencing charm. As she fought and clawed against Snape's restraints, she knew one way or another she couldn't let this happen.

"That… _is _a shame. But, very well. Seize him."

The Carrows flanked him and he was on his feet, wrestled into a submission position so he couldn't defend himself.

"Are there any parting words you would like to leave your daughter on, my friend?"

She locked eyes with him. His eyes sparkling with tears. She started to shake, to fight harder, tension running through her chest, tightening it, making it hard to breathe.

"Daphne, baby, I'm so sorry - sorry for all of this - you'll never know how much. Please… don't hate me."

He looked nervously between her and The Dark Lord, who bowed for him to continue. Looking like he hadn't been expecting such a mercy, his stumbled through his words.

"I loved your mother with all my heart, and I still do. I _hate _myself for not trying harder to give us all a life together, she was the best thing that ever happened to me, and the best thing I ever did was bringing you and Astoria into this world. I'd give anything... _anything... _to start again, and give you both the life you deserved. I'm sorry that I was never the father I should have been. The father you both deserved."

Her thoughts had kicked into overdrive, spinning through her limited options in a flash. In that moment of connection, of clarification, she wanted to tell him so much. Tell him he was a good man, who had just fallen down the wrong path. Tell him she loved him, and that he'd never deserved any of what happened to him. She wanted to tell him that through it all, she still loved him. She loved him so much.

"Such a shame, truly…" The Dark Lord's icy voice cut through the scene.

"The man on his knees before you has achieved everything that he ever set out for... and yet, so close to victory - with Dumbledore dead and the world on our horizon - he has yielded!" he exclaimed. "He has chosen to trade his life for a coward, because what? She's his blood? The Death Eaters do not have such weakness... _That _is what sympathy and love does to men... Turns them weak. Pitiful. Let his fall from grace be a lesson to you all. The man on his knees before you, brothers and sisters, is weakness incarnate. And that is how he shall be remembered. Benedict Greengrass, the coward. Runs in the family, clearly."

He pulled out his wand.

"Make your peace and prepare... to die."

She screamed silently, as her father spared her one final glance, then switched to the face above hers.

"Look after my baby girl, Severus Snape."

Then, with a heartache of hope, the Dark Lord lowered his wand.

"Actually, I don't think so…"

But whatever small glimmer she had felt in that second was crushed pathetically.

"Grayback, who am I to rob you of a meal? You may feed. But, Bellatrix… Make sure _she _watches."

* * *

_This tale is done._

_But, Daphne's story continues in The Ice Queen Lives, the next and final instalment of the Life Trilogy. _

_Follow for the notification of when that is published._

* * *

_A/N Thank you for all following this long and I sincerely hope you enjoyed this piece. I made conscious steps to try and improve my writing from the last one. I know people especially had problems with the last ending - that was sheer miscommunication on my part and I can only apologise. In case there's any confusion now, I shall state all:_

_Sirius is still alive and able to join the Horcrux hunt - which will now be a much larger group effort than just the trio camping in the woods for a year. Tracey is starting to show her true colours a bit as she drunkenly tried to snog Harry, which currently nobody knows about but them. Benedict got a last-minute pseudo-redemption by sacrificing himself to prevent Daphne becoming a werewolf. And with her father murdered by The Dark Lord, in front of her eyes no less, Daffy is going to be on a serious warpath in the future._

_At risk of turning things serious - working on both this story and my Youtube series has been a real emotional crutch recently, as the pandemic has caused me to lose both my job and a large handful of family members. Because of all this, me and my partner are having to rush getting an apartment of our own about a year earlier than we planned. So, while I'm happy to say Daphne's story will continue, please do take that with a grain of salt, as it'll be on the back burner for a while until I have stuff sorted. I already have rough drafts floating around that I'll be able to toy with in my spare time, so hopefully as soon as I'm settled into the new place I can dive right in with it. Put blunty - don't expect anything more from the Life Trilogy for the rest of 2020,. Anyone who doesn't want to wait that long though, I highly recommend giving Living Dangerously a re-read (if you haven't already), as I did a lot of retcons/rewrites to it earlier this year and it's a much better piece for it. I may also give some shorter fics a crack in the meantime; I still have to finish Phantom, I definitely want to do something more with the Hogwarts Mystery characters AND I've been toying with the idea of an M-rated Harry/Daphne/Tracey fic. None of those are promises, though._

_If you guys want to keep up to date with me, I urge you to check out my Youtube channel "Hadley". I have a video published about Daphne Greengrass titled "The Most Popular Harry Potter Character You've Never Heard Of" and it's by far my most popular one (even though it's the worst made on there). I'm actually going to try leaning more into content like that in coming months, I have one specific vid planned that's me reading and reacting to cursed HP ships, can't wait to film that! If you're interested, remember views, likes and comments are a completely free way to support indie creators!_

_Would love to hear back from you all, on both this story and in general. ShadowPillow, 98 and MilesMorales18, you have been some of my most loyal reviewers, so thank you! But moreso, thank every one of you all for everything._

_CGPH_


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